The Tripping Place
by Heeroluva
Summary: After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. Jim/Bones, Spock/Jim, future Jim/Spock/Bones
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Tripping Place 1/9  
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty  
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.  
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this.

Spock knew precisely when the unexplained symptoms had made their first appearance. It was 15.2 days after the destruction of Vulcan, a full thirty eight days out from Earth as they had no warp and limited impulse control. As the surviving Vulcans had been transferred to another ship for transport to Earth, there was no one for him to talk to if he had so desired, which he had not. He also did not seek out Dr. McCoy or attempt to contact one of the few remaining Vulcan healers.

Due to the conditions of his birth, his very existence, Spock had been trained to note and observe the most minute changes in his body be it function, ability, or appearance. He had noted everything and presented it to the doctors and researchers that were in charge of his case, underwent their examinations and tests with no complaint because doing so would not have changed the situation, would have only increased the derision directed towards him due to his differences, his half-blood status.

When Spock left Vulcan to join Starfleet he did not suddenly stop his observations and notes, but he was no longer obligated to share any of it with others. The doctors had requested his continued reports, but he declined as he was no longer obligated to do so because he was no longer required to follow his father's instructions. While technically he was still a dependent of Sarek until he had his first pon farr, his father had made no move to contact him, nor demand for him to continue sending his reports to the doctors.

No one knew his body and mind better than he, so there was no need to share the changes with others. After the destruction of Vulcan, he had no desire to be subjected to such invasions of privacy, a very human concept he knew, but one he highly valued. For all his research he was unable to find an explanation for the symptoms that plagued him.

The first thing Spock noticed was the smell. His sense of smell was naturally more acute than that of a human, but one morning he woke to a smell so horrid that he feared he would pass out despite all of his Vulcan control. It was the most putrid stench he had ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Then as suddenly as it started the smell vanished, leaving Spock grasping for possibilities wondering if this was some elaborate prank being waged against him by an Ensign with a grudge. While he could think of no one that he had slighted, he had long ago learned that humans had wildly different views on such things than Vulcans. After thoroughly searching his quarters finding nothing out of place, or anything that could have been the source of the smell, he went about his day experiencing no more problems.

It wasn't until two weeks later that the stench hit him again in the officer's mess hall, and it was the closest anyone had seen him to running from a room unprovoked. This time the smell did not disappear and seemed to be everywhere he went. There was no escaping it. Every breath brought with it a torture the likes of which he was not prepared to face. Locking himself in his room, he began his normal meditation rituals and was finally able to separate himself.

Months passed without another reoccurrence, at least not from his sense of smell. The ship returned to Earth, and classes resumed, and everything was normal. That is until the rashes began. They would come and go so quickly that Spock began to doubt his own senses He took to wearing jeans in the comfort of his own quarters and found the symptoms gone as if by magic, and hypothesized a sudden allergy to the synthetic material so favored these days. To remedy the situation he switched his thermal wear to all natural cotton and was relieved when that set of symptoms suddenly disappeared as though by magic. Still he did not talk to anyone of this, did not record it in anyway other than his own observations.

More months passed, and the ship was repaired and once again he was in space. However, just because so much time had passed did not mean that Spock had put it from his mind or forgot. Therefore, it came to no surprise to him, when the scent overcame once again him on his way to his quarters. So dazed he could hardly see straight, he made a quick detour to the observatory, and locking the door behind him, he set about meditating using the stars as his focus, shutting down his sense of smell as much as he was able to. His control and knowledge of his body should have allowed him to separate himself totally, but he found himself unable.

However, the stars drew him in, and he let himself drift, reaching farther and farther into them, finding stars that he knew he should not be able to see from their current location, stars that were brighter and more brilliant than ever before. He almost imagined that he could see minute planets circling the brilliant light sources, and moons the size of a speck of dust surrounding them. Time passed unnoticed as Spock lost himself until Jim's voice called for him through the communicator asking if he was still going to meet Jim for tonight's game of chess.

Spock visibly jumped at the sudden sound, unsure of what had happened or how much time had passed. "Sorry Captain. I was mediating and lost track of time. I shall be there shortly."

There was a long pause as though Jim was thinking of saying something before his voice announced, "See you shortly. Kirk, out."

Spock's mind was not on the game. Instead he found himself trying to quantify and analyze the changes in himself, creating hypothesis after hypothesis and discarding them just as quickly. Despite his distraction, he felt Jim's heavy gaze on him, knew his Captain knew that Spock's attention was elsewhere. He was thankful that this man, his friend did not push him right now, did not question him about things that he was not ready to admit that he did not understand or know the meaning of.

It was the ultimate disgrace for a Vulcan to not know themselves and even more so for one such as he who had spent the majority of his life mastering himself. After nearly an hour of silence and very little progress, Jim finally spoke up. "I think we should call it a night and pick this up again next time. It is obvious that neither of our minds are on the game tonight."

Spock stood quickly, straightening his shirt, grateful for the excuse to leave and meditate on this. "Very well, Captain. I shall see you in the morning." Turning towards the door he was stopped both by Jim's hand grasping his and the man's words. He almost jumped at the electric shock that traveled up his arm at the touch, but Jim had no such control.

"Spock, if you need to talk to me about anything I'm here."

They stood frozen for several long moments, Spock facing the door, his hand pulled back and held tightly by Jim's. "I shall remember the offer."

Pulling his hand away, he felt the reluctance on Jim's part as the grip momentarily tightened before he was released. He did not understand the odd pang in his chest at the loss of contact, and the weight of his Captain's stare followed him all the way back to his quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Tripping Place 2/9  
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty  
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.  
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this

Months Prior

The trip back to nearest space station to get repair parts to fix their warp drive so they could return home to Earth had been both horribly long and not nearly long enough. Without their warp cores they were left limping home at an abysmally slow pace. In normal circumstances another ship would be sent to tow or pick up the occupants of the ship if towing wasn't an option. However, the past week had proven that if nothing else they were experiencing anything _but_normal circumstances. All available ships had been sent to the Vulcan system to search for and pick up survivors and get them relocated until such a time that they could regroup and decide what to do for the remnants of their species.

That wouldn't have been such a concern if the ship wasn't so damaged, filled with so many injured, and had been fully stocked. As this had been the ship's maiden voyage and not expected to be a long one, the ship had limited supplies. The replicators were normally the last items to be stocked, so Jim felt it was lucky that they had enough to last them a month. That is – they would have had enough raw materials to last a month under normal circumstances, but again these times had proven to be anything but typical.

The ship had been overstaffed,' a learning experience' the Admiralty had said. So a ship that was designed to house five hundred took off with a crew closer to six hundred and fifty. Thirty seven had been lost in Nero's first attack against them, and while it could have been worse, most of those were medical crew, some of the best and brightest. Their loss was a huge blow.

Then add that to the one hundred and fifty eight Vulcans, mostly children from the first school they had been able to locate and had managed to evacuate, the ship's resources were quickly stressed. After a full inventory of their resources at normal use the replicators would run out after two weeks and four days. They had enough emergency rations (praise the powers that those were fully stocked) to last another week and a half.

Rationing could extend those supplies to last them the entire limping trip to the space station, but Jim wasn't Kodos and wouldn't hear of it. It was pointed out that the Vulcans could go extended periods with little or no food, but Jim had flat out refused to hear it. No one should have to starve and he wasn't about to let the children be subjected to such a thing.

He desperately wished that Pike was conscious and lucid because he could greatly use the man's help. The Captain had quickly become a mentor to Jim at the Academy, and he was grateful for the support. But Jim had no leverage with brass, no contacts or favors to call in, and as far as he knew, they had very little respect for him following the hearing and how he came to be aboard the ship. They didn't want to hear from him. But he couldn't fault the Captain.

The spinal damage was severe and despite Bones' experience and having some of the most state of the art medical equipment, spinal injuries were still very tricky and prone to complications, and there was only so much the doctor to do. After Bones removed the slug, which he could only hypothesize was confused by human biology as it was used to that of a Klingon due to the excessive damage it did to Pike's spinal column, he put Pike into stasis to prevent further deterioration until they could get him to Earth and treated by a specialist.

After multiple attempts to contact Admiral Barnett only to be rebuffed and told the man was too busy to speak to him, it had finally taken Jim's threat to go to the media to get the man to take him seriously. Jim knew that his threat and actions were probably just another nail in the coffin to tanking his career, but he wasn't about to sit idly by and let another Tarsus IV take place on his watch when he could prevent it. Spock hadn't tried to regain his position as acting captain. Jim had no real authority to appoint a First Officer, but Spock had agreed to be his when asked as he was the most qualified and one of the only ranking officers with experience.

Together they had gotten the Admiralty to agree to send a ship within a week's time that would bring relief rations and was also capable of taking those rescued as well as a large amount of the non-essential crew back to earth. Given the situation there was no need for the majority, so it was better to send them home.

Before Starfleet had agreed to bring supplies and relief, Jim knew that Spock had already begun to eat less. He noticed that something was up and asked Bones who monitored replicator usage. When confronted, Spock had argued that it was only logical that he do so because it wasn't a hardship for his Vulcan physiology. Jim had countered that if Spock continued restrict his rations that Jim would follow his example, and despite Spock's argument as to how illogical such an action would be for the Captain, Jim wasn't about to be swayed and Spock finally gave in.

Or so he said. Despite what was said about Vulcans, that they couldn't or didn't lie, Jim wasn't so trusting, and had Bones keep extra tabs on his First Officer just in case. He was relieved to note that after a time there was no marked change in Spock's diet, though Bones did notice that the man switched to only consuming bland foods, and while it was not atypical for Vulcans, Spock had used to enjoy certain spices. But Jim wrote it off as grief, a way of dealing with the loss of his planet, his species, his home, and his mother.

Seeing the children was hardest of all. The majority of the crew had opted to even further consolidate rooms by sharing to give the Vulcans privacy for their grief. After a number of unexpected hysterical outbursts by the crewmembers that had high psi scores as well as the medical staff that were examining the children it became apparent that they were projecting, particularly the younger ones. Most had lost not only their parental bonds, but that of their bond mate as well. The death cries of billions had been felt by them all, and they had been powerless to help. Such a thing could affect the most controlled psyche as Spock's 'emotionally compromised' state had proven, and the children, for all their knowledge, were still children.

For everyone with even a moderate psi score, the Vulcans' grief was almost palpable, a constant presence in their minds. Despite the common belief that Vulcans did not feel, the crew learned firsthand how strongly they did indeed feel, possibly more strongly than even humans, and how Vulcans did not suppress their emotions, but worked instead to control them. For the mental health of the crew, they were going through the psi inhibitor Stylocaine as fast as it was produced from the labs as the replicator use was limited to just food unless there was an emergency.

It was rare for the bridge crew to not have at least mild psi abilities, and Jim had been questioned multiple times on the command track if he was fit to hold such a position with no psi abilities to speak of. Someone higher up obviously had access to his sealed records because he was always cleared to keep going. He sometimes wondered if Pike knew, but couldn't get up the nerves to breach the subject.

His empathy was off the charts and a carefully hidden secret for reasons he did not like to dwell on. On the transporter pad after Amanda was lost, Spock and Sarek's grief had been so over painfully clear that Jim hadn't even been able to look at them for more than a second. Given the fact that he was supposedly a psi null, he could not request Stylocaine. Well, Bones knew, and would likely have gotten him some if he'd asked, but Jim could not imagine being without his empathy for even a short period of time.

In the midst of everything Jim had an idea. It was a very human one, and the Vulcan Elders had at first been reluctant for the children to interact with humans in such a way. However, when Jim pointed out that as they were facing an event unlike one the species had ever experienced before and which had unforeseeable consequences, it had to be logical to use whatever means they had available to them, even if it went counter to Vulcan teaching.

The children at first had been reluctant to do such a thing, but all it took was one brave soul to step forward. By the end of the week there wasn't a crew member that hadn't participated. Human children after all needed physical contact as did many other species, so what could it really hurt to try the same on a Vulcan suffering so much grief? Jim of course was the first to volunteer, not allowing the crew to do something that he himself did not first make sure was safe. He would have done it without asking, but the Vulcans were doing a good job at keeping the children segregated, barely allowing the medical staff to run their tests before running them off.

A handful of children were brought to the room, and Jim held out his hand. The group stood there for long moments, undecided, before one lanky boy stepped forward wide-eyed. For one brief instance Jim thought that this was what Spock must have looked like at such an age, before the boy tentatively grasped his hand, causing Jim to gasp, and bite back a cry. He thought he'd been prepared, thought he'd felt the worst of it when Spock had attacked him, but he hadn't taken into consideration that Spock was fully grown and had the control that came with it. This boy had no such control and was barely holding on.

And Jim didn't fight it, merely accepted it, took it, and let it wash through him. Jim hesitantly pulled the boy towards him, and when he did not protest, cautiously wrapped his arms around the small frame. The boy shuddered then froze, before timidly returning the embrace, as though unsure if he was allowed, then upon realizing he wasn't going to be chastised, tightened his grip. Jim didn't voice his discomfort at the sudden squeeze of limbs and the pain it brought because despite being a child, he was still a Vulcan and three times stronger than a human.

Despite not voicing a complaint, the child felt his pain and rapidly loosened his grip and tried to pull away, but Jim wouldn't allow it. He vaguely heard Spock's voice of "Don't" probably stopping another Vulcan from stepping forward and breaking the contact. Jim tried his best not to read people, but his empathy made that hard, and given the situation he embraced it, felt the boy's fear and guilt, but most of all grief.

Not having done this in years, Jim tried his best to project warmth and acceptance, and knew it had worked when the form in his arms relaxed again and once more wrapped his arms around Jim, this time taking care not to squeeze too hard. When the face buried itself in his neck he was not surprised at the sudden wetness he felt there nor the relief he felt from the boy at finally being able to let go of his control, no matter how wrong he had been taught it was to do so. Jim understood the Vulcan need for control, having experienced firsthand what happened when it was lost, but he couldn't help but believe that everyone needed to let go at certain times. Despite the tears the boy was silent and still, and he was relieved sometime later when he realized that his cheeks were streaked with tears, that no one spoke of it.

Turning his head, he noticed that the crew that he had selected and the remaining children were in similar embraces. Seeing Bones in a similar position he couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face, a smile that grew when the man met his eyes and gave him a look that dared him to say something. Despite the man's horrible bedside manner and gruff, grizzly bear exterior, Jim knew there was a teddy bear hiding underneath. The man would have been a great father. If Jocelyn hadn't miscarried Jim wondered if Bones would have still been here today. He hated the part of himself that was glad it happened because the man was the best thing that had happened to him.

Glancing over at his First Officer standing near his father and the rest of the Vulcan Elders overseeing the events, he would have thought the man was unaffected by what was happening as his face was impassive as ever, but it his eyes that gave it away. Emotions swam across Spock's eyes like storm clouds before the gale. The Vulcan, suddenly realizing he was being watched, slowly turned his head and met his eyes. The instant their eyes met, it was as though Spock flicked a switch. His eyes went cool and blank, completely emotionless.

Jim felt a pang in his chest that after all they'd been through the man still felt the need to hide from him, but Jim knew he wasn't being realistic. Despite their experiences and their ability to work well together when they weren't at each other's throats (which was decreasing everyday as they got to know and respect each other), they were not friends. He'd gotten the impression from future Spock that they had a great and long lasting friendship from almost the start, but Jim wasn't sure if he could see that happening.

Hell, the likelihood of him being assigned anywhere anytime soon, let alone on the Enterprise or as Captain was slim to none. He still had that disciplinary hearing hanging over his head (which he still felt was completely unfair as he had used original, out-of-the-box thinking to solve the problem), and the fact that he'd stowed away on a starship, let alone that it was the Enterprise (the fucking flagship of the Federation) that he was expressly banned from being on would not go unnoticed or unpunished, he was sure. If he was lucky, he figured he would be permanently grounded and if he was unlucky, he knew that the ice ball that was Delta Vega would be the least of his worries.

When the boy in his arms suddenly went limp, he was distressed until he realized that the boy had simply passed out from exhaustion caused both by the trauma of losing so much and by the uncommon emotional release. Looking around he realized that the others were experiencing similar things, and those children that were still awake appeared almost asleep on their feet. The Vulcans around them did not seem distressed or surprised by the situation and showed everyone where they could place their charges to rest. No arrangement was made for another session or for the other children until the next day when it was announced that there was a marked improvement in the constitution of the children that had participated.

A rotating schedule was quickly set up and while it was strictly voluntary, the entirety of the crew, with the exception of a certain Vulcan, was taking part. The children were by no means forced to participate, but many did, and many of those that didn't at first quickly got over their fear of breaking such a taboo, seeing that it was the logical thing to do after observing the obvious improvement of their peers.

Jim wanted to confront his wayward First Officer, but knew that given the situation the man would probably not welcome it, and after experiencing both the strength of the Vulcan's body and emotions, he wasn't about to place himself before that train again without a good reason. The man was fully grown and could take care of himself, or so he told his slightly guilty conscience when it decided to make an appearance. So to say that Jim was surprised when Spock appeared at his door holding a chessboard the first evening that he'd had a chance to rest and breathe since this whole thing with Nero had started, was putting it mildly.

He just stood staring at the Vulcan dumbly for a moment before the man asked, "May I enter, Captain?"

Jim blinked and hastily backed up, stammering, "Um, yeah, be my guest, Mr. Spock. What can I do for you?"

Spock eyed Jim for a moment. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."

Jim looked down realizing his state of undress, a pair of baggy pajama pants, a regulation undershirt, and bare feet, but he wasn't about to be embarrassed or ashamed in his own quarters and just shrugged. "I'd planned on it being an early night."

"I am sorry to interrupt your sleep. I can return at a more opportune time." Spock turned, ready to leave Jim's quarters.

But Jim rushed to stop him, wondering what this was all about. "No wait. It's still early yet. I have time. If I go to bed now, I'll probably wake up at 0300 hours anyway and then spend my entire shift cranky."

Spock's eyebrow rose, and Jim marveled at how such a thing could be so expressive. "That is illogical. If you know that you could not sleep, why do so?"

Jim just laughed, "No one has ever accused me of being logical. Get used to it. It's a human trait, or so you should have already figured out by now. Now, what did you want?

"I had thought it obvious for one such as yourself."

Jim ignored the barb.

Spock set the chessboard down on the empty table and pulled out a pouch that Jim was sure contained the pieces. "I have heard rumors that you are an accomplished chess player. I wanted to see those skills myself."

"Now?" Jim asked in confusion, not understanding the other man's motivation.

"Would another time be more appropriate?" Spock asked.

"No, no, this is fine." Jim pulled out a chair and sat, motioning for Spock to do the same.

Spock quickly set up the board, ignoring Jim's attempts to help.

Jim didn't comment on Spock's choice to let him go first, setting up the white pieces in front of Jim. Making the first move, Jim carefully watched the man across from him. Spock didn't give anything away (not that Jim expected him to), nor did he look up as he also moved. Making another move, Jim began to test the waters, looking for Spock's style, looking for patterns, for traps, and for future moves. All the while, Jim knew Spock was doing the same.

So intent was he on the game, Jim jumped as Spock's sudden words broke the long silence.

"I apologize for my actions on the bridge. They were illogical and impulsive. It was not my intent to hurt you."

Jim just started at him in disbelief before snorting. "You're full of shit. Get off your high horse and visit us lonely peasants down here on the ground. We both know that you would have killed me if not for your father. As it was, the damage was considerable. My ears are still ringing from the lecture that Bones gave me about running out of nine lives one of these days."

Spock was stunned speechless by his words and frankness, and Jim might have laughed at any other situation. Finally finding his words, Spock replied. "As you are not a cat, I do not believe you have anything to worry about. And you are correct, though I must reiterate that your actions were illogical. There was only one possible course of action for me given the situation."

Jim sobered at the words, remembering the pain and rage he'd felt from the Vulcan. "I took a gamble. It's what I do." He drew a deep breath. "Spock, you have to know that I am also sorry. I did not mean those words about your mother. I know you love her. Even a blind man could see that."

Spock abruptly stood and stated, "Thank you for the game, Captain. Please excuse me."

Before Jim could utter a word or protest or even question his First Officer's actions, the man took his leave of Jim's quarters, leaving him staring at the now closed door and wondering what the hell had just happened. Maybe mentioning the Vulcan's mother was the wrong thing to do. He internally kicked himself. She hadn't even been dead two weeks, so of course it still hurt. Jim didn't even have to touch Spock to feel the pain radiating off him. It was almost palpable, so different from that of the older Vulcans or even the children. He wondered if it had to do with the Vulcan's mixed heritage.

Stifling a sudden yawn, he looked at the clock then jumped and cursed, wondering where the time had gone. Surely that much time had not passed, but apparently it had. Grumbling, he climbed into bed. Sleep was a long time in coming.

The next day was not exceptionally different than the others, but there was an odd calmness that had not been present before. Spock still took pleasure in correcting him, citing regulations, and interjecting information whenever he saw fit. But there was a difference. Jim knew that it had something to do with last night, but he didn't know what it was. Something had changed he knew that, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He hated not knowing.

It was almost as if there had been a glacier between them, breaking apart and creating violent waves, but now there was nothing, just a calm sea. But that was silly; he knew things couldn't clear up that fast, not with the amount of animosity between them. This was the beginning of what could be, and Jim felt a pang of sadness knowing that once they got to Earth, that would be the end of it. Jim was sure the Vulcan would ship out on his own vessel, whilst he was left watching the waves crash on the shore.

He had to admit it was the most relaxing day he'd had since this whole mess had started, and he only hoped it lasted. At the end of their shift, Spock was the first one to leave, and Jim had to practically run to catch up with the man's quick, ground-covering strides. "Hey, Spock. Wait up. You busy?"

Spock stopped at the sound of his name. "As our shift has just ended, I am not 'busy'."

"You know what I mean. You may be Vulcan, but I've seen your files. You've more of an expert on Earth than most earthlings, so don't be obtuse. For all I know you had plans for the evening."

Spock began walking again, and Jim took up pace next to him. "Given the time, I feel the need to partake in sustenance. Uhura had asked to share the meal with me and I agreed."

"Oh." Jim was crestfallen, but didn't know why he suddenly expected any different. "Well, I'll leave you to that."

Spock continued on as though Jim had no spoken. "After dinner, I have nothing of importance to do, and can meet in your quarters to finish our game."

"What?" Jim exclaimed, and at Spock's look, he continued more calmly, "I mean, that sounds great. I'll see you then."

Jim practically ran to the officer's mess, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Absorbed in paperwork a few hours later, Jim jumped when the door chimed and called, "Come in."

Seeing Spock, he nodded. "I'll be just a minute. Take a seat. Who knew that paperwork took so much time?"

"As there is a required course on paper work, and two for the command track, you should be familiar with the demands." Spock said as he sat in the chair he had occupied last night.

"Ha. If they wanted that to be realistic, they need to start assigning at least twenty times more work. That was nothing compared to this." Jim finished the current document, saved, and sent it before turning off the screen.

"As you know, these circumstances are not usual, and such paperwork would not be commonplace on a normal mission."

Taking his own seat, Jim countered, "As opposed to an abnormal mission?"

Spock who was now examining the board, though Jim had no doubt the Vulcan had the positions memorized, did not look up as he spoke. "As opposed to a five year mission."

Jim found himself laughing at the man's audacity, but kept up the banter, not realizing that a Vulcan was capable of such a thing.

After a time, their words died off as the game heated up. Multiple times he felt himself closing in on the Vulcan, only to have the man pull back just in time. And Jim himself managed to avoid all the traps that he saw Spock planning. It was the most fun Jim had had in ages. He hadn't been challenged like this since he couldn't recall, and he began to think that for a man with a big stick up his ass, Spock wasn't so bad.

Suddenly, seeing his opportunity, he slid a piece across the board as a decoy, hoping Spock would counter it. Finally making his move, he was not prepared for Spock's counter, had not seen it.

"Fascinating," Spock said, apparently just as shocked by the development.

Jim just stared at the board incredulously, before laughing uproariously.

It was a draw.

Spock spoke. "I do not see the humor in this situation."

"Spock, I haven't lost in years, but I haven't had a draw in longer. You're very skilled. What do you say to a rematch?"

Spock seemed to consider it for a moment. "That is agreeable."

And thus began the pattern that would define their friendship.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Tripping Place 3/9  
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty  
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.  
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this

After the Vulcans, Captain Pike, and extra crew were picked up and their stocks replenished, Jim suddenly had a lot of time on his hands. He'd really expected Starfleet to relieve him, or send orders for him to hand over command to Spock or another. When they didn't, he decided they were just going to let him sweat. He knew all the techniques, having taken all the classes and passed them all with flying colors. He just didn't expect to have to have them done to him so soon in a non-training environment.

That night he snuck into Bones' quarters, and his friend lifted the covers and gathered him close when he climbed in, finally allowing himself to cry for all the grief that he'd felt from the children. He wanted to sob and scream and rail about the unfairness of it all, but kept silent, his tears the only testament to the pain he felt inside. Bones made no comment on the tears just held him close, and Jim did not mention the doctor's own.

Jim briefly wished he had the Vulcans' control, but threw out the idea just as quickly, knowing that such a thing wasn't for him. He understood their need for control, but it was not the same for him. His empathy, while slightly similar to their telepathy, was not to be controlled and he knew it would hurt him if he tried. It was both a curse and a blessing, though he'd never embraced it as such until recent years when Bones patiently showed him that there was some good in it.

Exiting the doctor's quarters early the next morning, he was startled to find Spock walking down the hall.

Spock, for his part, did not appear surprised and greeted, "Good morning, Captain," before continuing on his way.

Well, that was weird, Jim thought, but continued on towards his quarters to get ready for the day. When Spock didn't bring it up again, he forgot all about it.

When he wasn't bugging Bones in the sickbay (the doctor told him that if he showed up one more time without a good reason to annoy him, that he would give him a reason to need to be in there, though Jim knew that his friend would never follow through with the threat), he was trying to get a rise out of the Vulcan. Really, it was too easy sometimes.

There was an added bonus that it just seemed to piss off Uhura, and he couldn't help but enjoy any rise he got from her. He wondered what was going on between her and Spock, but picked up enough feelings from both of them to know better than to question it, as it wasn't his business. As Captain or even just _Acting_ Captain he had no reason to interfere as long as the relationship wasn't coerced, wasn't between one's direct superior and their subordinate, and did not interfere with ship business. He was doing his best to act as professional as possible, knowing that _everyone_would be giving reports on him and his actions. The slightest misdeeds, the smallest overlooked details, could be used against him, so he tried his best to prevent that.

The rendezvous with the space station was anticlimactic as it was tiny, and held little in the way of entertainment. What it did have was the rare parts they needed. Repairs went more quickly than expected under Scotty's watchful eyes and in almost no time they were on their way back to Earth on low warp.

When they finally reached the solar system there was mass excitement, and Jim knew everyone had been as bored as he, and they didn't even have the added thrill of an infinite amount of paperwork to make it that much better. If he never had to fill out another report it wouldn't be a minute too soon. Maybe that was their plan, he thought insanely. They were trying to drive him mad with paperwork so they had an excuse to discharge him. Jim snorted at his own inanity.

Finally beaming down and feeling the Earth beneath his feet was amazing after over a month of the constant vibrations of the ship. He was unsteady on his feet, swaying as though the ground was moving under him. He'd heard of such an event with sailors of old. They'd gotten so used to being on the sea that they had to relearn to walk without movement beneath their feet.

He was taken to a sterile, white room, illuminated by an overly bright florescent light that flickered and buzzed annoyingly. The room contained nothing but a table with two chairs on either side. He expected someone to follow him in, but as the door closed behind him and the click of the locking system slid into place, he realized they were going to let him sweat it out some more. The two-way mirror wasn't obvious, but he knew it was there, could feel the people on the other side, their curiosity, disbelief, anger, fear, and so much more. He took a deep breath, fighting to control the sudden onslaught of emotions, wondering if the people on the other side had seen his sealed file, if they were purposely torturing him. However, he knew that was unlikely.

Not wanting to let them see his nerves or show weakness, he forced himself not to pace, no matter how much he wanted to, feeling like one of those pitiful caged cats at one of those old-times zoos that pace the length of their cage endlessly, seeking a way out that they would never find, a hopeless look in their eyes, a need for freedom that they would never receive. Sliding down the wall, he sat, not knowing how much time passed, but it seemed like an eternity, and he mused that the Vulcans' internal clock must really come in handy in situations like these.

He jumped to his feet as the lock clicked, and wasn't surprised to see Admiral Barnett. Who he was surprised to see was Admiral Archer. The man rarely made appearances these days due to his age, and Jim had never seen him in person, only pictures. Despite the pictures being decades old he still recognized the man. He had aged well. But the sight of Archer got Jim's fear rising and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. They were pulling out the big guns for this. The man was a legend for a reason.

While gesturing towards a chair, Barnett addressed him, "Cadet Kirk, take a seat."

There was no request in his tone, only an order. And the way he said 'cadet' when it was still protocol to call him by his current title no matter how temporary it was, was an unveiled insult.

But he was surprised by the look Archer shot the other man, "Barnett! Don't be rude."

Jim suddenly wondered if he was going to be part of a good cop, bad cop routine. Been there done that. Even had the shiny medal to prove he was a veteran at it. But this was different. He had never cared then, and now that he did the odds were very different and he did not like it one bit.

When Archer turned to face him, Jim felt himself start to sweat but forced himself to keep his face straight. "Now, kid."

Jim couldn't help but bristle at the word, even knowing that to the man everyone must seem like a kid. But it was too often an insult. The only one that could get away with it without complaint was Bones.

"No need for that. Relax. We just have a few questions for you. Your crew's going through the same."

That's when the drilling began. They wanted a play by play from how the hell he got on the Enterprise to begin with all the way through stepping back onto Earth. He knew they knew it already. He filled out the paperwork… a dozen times. But he told it. And then he told it again. And again. And again.

The questions were endless. How did he know that it was Romulans? Why did Pike make him First Officer? Why did Spock step down as Captain and why did Jim not return the command to him when Spock was again fit to lead? What did Jim think he would get out of threatening the Admiralty?

At that last question, Jim finally had enough and exploding, standing suddenly, sending the chair crashing to the ground and causing the other men to stand as well when he shouted, "No one should ever have to starve! No one! Especially not children! I don't care if they were Vulcan and could go longer without food than humans. They were still children. That's never going to happen under my watch. You had the resources. It wasn't a hardship for you to send a ship and supplies. I wasn't going to be the next Kodos when the Federation could prevent it. "

Jim suddenly shut up, but it was too late. The look Archer gave him was appraising.

The man turned his head to look at the security that Jim hadn't noticed entering the room after his outburst, and ordered, "Get out."

One of them protested. "But sir?"

There was a dangerous edge to his voice. "Don't make me repeat myself."

The men couldn't exit fast enough at his words.

Turning back around, Archer's stare seemed to see right through him, read the value of his soul. "Pick up your chair and sit down."

Jim hesitated.

"Now!" the man practically growled.

Jim scrambled to do as he was told, suddenly feeling like a little kid about to be punished for something he hadn't done. Sitting down, he squared his jaw and met the man's eyes, daring him.

"You were on Tarsus IV."

It wasn't a question, so he didn't bother to reply. He was sure that the man had seen his file, but from the small startled sound from Barnett, the other man had not known.

"You were JT, the boy that rescued, fed, and led over thirty other children scheduled for execution, often at the price of himself, and then disappeared as soon as rescue came."

"Thirty eight," Jim gritted out as he clenched his jaw so hard that he was afraid for his teeth. No one had called him that name in over a decade, and he could have done without hearing it.

"They all lived."

Jim swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. He'd tried looking for some of them, those that he knew the full names of, but it had been hard. Their files were sealed, and while he knew he could hack them, he couldn't do so without being detected. He didn't want the attention. He was good but not that good.

"Some of them think you died for them. A few are still searching for you. They all want to thank you."

Jim could not stop the tears this time.

"You, at age twelve, did what starship Captains four times your age could not have done. You're a natural leader, and you won't ask anything of your crew that you yourself are not willing to do as well. People look up to you for that, respect you and listen to you for that. All traits that are in low supply these days. That's why I'm promoting you to Captain of the Enterprise."

Jim wasn't sure if it was him or Barnett that shouted in surprise, "What?" Maybe it was both of them.

Barnett did say, "Jonathan. Have you lost your mind?"

Archer just went right along as though he hadn't heard them. "Of course it's not official yet. We'll have a ceremony where Christopher is officially promoted to Admiral. While he will likely make a near full recovery, it will take time, and he is also of the mentality of not asking others to do what he can't. He's also feeling his age. We'll name you his successor at the time. You naturally still have to finish your schooling, but I'm sure that won't be a problem."

At the announcement, a roar filled Jim's ears, and while he saw the man's mouth moving it was in slow motion, and he didn't hear one word of it. The unexpected news that he was not being court-martialed but promoted, and the sudden relief knowing that Pike was going to be alright blindsided him. As the world grayed around the edges, he didn't notice the man get up, nor did he feel Archer catch and lay him gently on the floor as the world finally went black.

Jim woke suddenly, and jerked upright, looking wildly around, just knowing this wasn't his room and he'd had the strangest dream. He swore Archer had promoted him to Captain of the Enterprise. Crazy talk. He relaxed when he finally realized it was a hospital, having spent no small portion of his life in them.

The door unexpectedly opened and Bones entered. Jim couldn't help but grin. It wasn't often that he saw the other man in his civvies, and the sight always made him smile. His fashion sense was unique.

Bones grinned back, happy to see him awake. "Well, lookie here. Seems you finally decided to grace us with your presence again in the land of the living."

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a croak. He coughed and then moaned at the pain the action caused as he realized his mouth and throat were painfully dry.

Bones was suddenly there with a cup of water, slowly tilting it into his mouth and telling him, "Slowly, slowly, too fast and you'll be sick."

It was always the same, but Jim still wanted to gulp it down.

"You've been out over forty eight hours, severe exhaustion and dehydration they say. Well no fucking wonder when they kept you locked in that room for 17 hours after a 15 hour shift."

Jim hadn't really listened until he heard the part about the room. "It wasn't a dream?" he asked, voice still rough.

Bones cocked his head. "What wasn't a dream?"

"Archer."

Bones smiled wildly, "Only you could spend seventeen hours in interrogation and come out with a promotion." He sobered quickly. "Jim, you need to be careful. Some of the Admirals are gunning for you already. They're saying that Archer has finally lost it, but no one will publicly go against him. The word spread real quick. There was obviously a leak and the press already is having a field day. It's hell out there. You're the new poster boy of the Federation."

"But your crew's backing you. A large portion of them have signed up to go on with you, and even more are clamoring for places on the ship. All the final choices are yours, of course."

"Wait, wait, wait, just stop. This is bit much to take in right now. I haven't even graduated yet." Jim reached up and rubbed his suddenly aching temples.

"So what? You'll finish your classes. Hell, I'm sure they'll waive some of them for you. And don't be coy. You know you could have tested out of most of them if they had let you. Not all of us are blessed with perfect auditory recall. But look on the bright side, you don't have to worry about your commission like the rest of your classmates, after all, your position's already set in stone. You never do things by halves do you, kid? Not only the youngest Captain in history, but also the only one to be promoted before he even graduated." Bones laughed. "Only you, Jim." Quickly sobering, he looked at Jim seriously. "Your dad would be proud, kid."

Grabbing McCoy's hand, he grinned, and blinked rapidly against the tears he wouldn't allow to fall. "And you Bones, where are you going to be while I'm out exploring space? They give you some cushy job here at the hospital?"

McCoy gave him a look that said 'you idiot.' "Where the hell do you think I'll be? Someone has to keep your skinny ass alive and it sure isn't going to be some green doctor who's never set foot on a spaceship. Running into space won't get rid of me that easily."

Jim just laughed happily. "Says the man who was so afraid of space that he wanted to lock himself in the bathroom in the shuttle. Don't ever change. Oh, hey. How's Pike?"

Bones sobered instantly. "The best experts in the field are working on his case, but even with all of our medical advances, spinal cord damage is still a very hard thing to overcome. Right now his outcome is guarded but optimistic. He's already regained some sensation in his legs. There's hope that he'll be able to walk again, but that'll be months, maybe even years down the road and will require extensive physical therapy."

Jim just nodded, happy to hear that his mentor would recover. "So that's why I was offered the Enterprise."

"No, or at least not the whole reason. There's nothing saying that Pike couldn't still captain the ship, despite his physical condition. You're like him in many regards. He's not comfortable asking the crew to do what he himself is unable to do, so they're promoting him to Admiral."

Jim blinked. "He's going to hate it. Whatever happened to Spock?"

"I've seen him around campus a few times. There's talk that he's leaving Starfleet to help with the Vulcan relocation and settlement."

"What? Are you serious? There's no way. He never said anything to me about it. I want him as my First Officer, no one else."

Bones sighed. "That might be easier said than done, man. The brass isn't all that happy with him right now, seeing as how his decision almost got Earth destroyed."

Jim just gaped at him in disbelief. "But we saved it. And he was emotionally compromised. That's got to count for something right?"

"Yeah, it means that he wasn't outright court-martialed. They're reviewing the events right now. But it doesn't look good according to rumors."

"But his planet had just been destroyed, his mother died right in front of him. And I was able to stop him."

"Jim." Bones paused. "I think you're too involved in this to see clearly. Yes your points are valid. But try to look at it from Command's eyes. He assaulted a fellow officer. They saw my report. Don't give me that look. I wasn't going to lie for that green-blooded hobgoblin after what he did to you, no matter the situation. And his actions…" He paused as Jim sat up. "What are you doing?"

"Springing myself. What's it look like? And you're helping. We have a meeting to crash."

"Dammit, Jim. What are you planning on doing? Throwing yourself at their mercy? Didn't you hear a word I said? They're gunning for you and this would be the perfect thing to add fuel to their fire. Don't do this."

Through McCoy's lecture, Jim shut the door, and began opening and closing the cabinets around the room, grumbling about hospital gowns and easy access, and not practical to barge into a meeting while wearing them. Coming up empty handed, he turned to find Bones staring at him. "Done ranting yet? Go find me some clothes, or I'll leave in this, and you know I will."

Bones grumbled and went looking, knowing that Jim wasn't bluffing, having seen it before. Raiding the storeroom, he found some spare sets of clean scrubs, grabbed a pink one out of spite, and hurried back before Jim got impatient and left without him. Throwing the bundle at Jim, who just raised an eyebrow at the color, Bones hastily turned around as Jim stripped out of the robe, completely unabashed by his nudity. As long as he'd roomed with the other man, Bones thought that he'd be used to Jim's lack of modesty by now, but apparently not.

Hearing the door open, he turned to find Jim already dressed, impatiently waiting for him, giving him the patented 'hurry up, you're wasting my time' look. McCoy sighed and followed him, wondering just what he was getting himself into this time. His life had been so much simpler before Jim. (But so very boring, a part of his brain told him. He told it to shut up. He liked boring.) "So where the hell are we going anyway? Or do I even want to know what harebrained scheme you dreamt up this time?"

Quickly walking through a maze of halls that he'd never had the need to enter, Bones wondered just how the hell Jim knew where he was going. He also wondered if he was about to kiss his career goodbye. Finally stopping at a door, he a moment to read the plague on the outside 'Fleet Admiral Jonathan Archer' before entering a door and being told by the secretary that Archer was busy and that they would need an appointment to see him. He apologized profusely to her as Jim barged though the next set of doors to where Admiral Archer and who knows who else were meeting, and knew this was the end of his career.

Jim was surprised to find that the office was only occupied by Archer and wondering what the hell was going on.

Archer told the still screeching secretary, "Melissa, no, don't call security. Please excuse them. I was expecting them. Please close and lock the door behind you, and hold all calls for the time being."

Once the door closed, Jim let loose. "What the hell are you playing at, old man?"

Bones winced, slapped his hand over Jim's mouth, and interjected, "He didn't mean that, Admiral Archer, sir." Then turn Jim. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"Yes, he did. Dr. McCoy, let him speak. You'll get your say too." Bones straightened at his name, and wondered why he needed a say, but while he was not happy about it, he did as he was told, and dropped his hand.

Jim shot Bones a dirty look. "You can't discharge Spock. I won't work with anyone else as my First Officer. It's either both of us or neither of us."

The smile that crossed the old man's face put Bones ill at ease and he had to ask. "Pardon my language. With all due respect sir, what the hell is going on here?"

"Don't lose that spunk, kid. Now that little rumor going around is just that, a rumor."

McCoy's grabbed Jim's arm as he felt him tense next to him, hoping to restrain him before he did anything rash (well more rash than he already had).

"Commander Spock was never any danger of being discharged. In fact, we tried to offer him a Captaincy, but he turned it down, citing the reasons circulated in the rumor, and handed me his resignation."

Jim let out a startled, "He what?"

"I understand his reasons but I of course didn't accept it. So if you want him, it falls on your shoulders to convince him to stay. You have until the Enterprise departs in two months time. If he isn't on it, I'll appoint someone for you."

Bones finally spoke, barely restrained fury in his voice. "Is this some kind of a game to you? An old man meddling in everyone's lives because he's bored? If Spock wants to resign that's his choice, and I'm sure he has good reasons."

Addressing McCoy, he began, "I've lived a long time, seen the world change around me, as I remained unchanged. Some of the changes were good and others not so good. I've seen hundreds of Captains both good and bad, but few were great." Turning to Jim, he continued, "I see that greatness in you, but what makes a great captain different from all the others is his command team. This is something that's gone to the wayside over the years, but I believe it's invaluable. A Captain with a good command team can do extraordinary things, but they can also ground him, and keep him on track. They can't be afraid to tell him he's wrong, but when he's right they'll back him against all odds. That's what Starfleet is missing. That is what I see in you."

Bones didn't look convinced, and poor Jim just looked confused. "I don't understand."

Archer just smiled. "You'll understand in time. Now get out of here and go convince that Vulcan that he's where he's needed. Also, apologize to Melissa on your way out. You'd better send her a nice gift as well. It's so nice hard to find a competent secretary these days, and I don't want to lose her. "

Neither man noticed as Spock's future counterpart stepped out from behind a door, or the conspiratorial glance the two men shared.

Bones dragged the still-flabbergasted Jim from the office, apologizing to Melissa as he went, though she didn't respond other than a small huff of dismissal.

After a silent walk, they finally made it outside the building. Jim commented, "Well, that was interesting."

Bones just sent him a 'well no shit, doofus' look. "I knew I shouldn't have joined the military. They told me it was safe and drama free, but of course I get dragged into plots and politics."

Jim grinned, "It's not that bad. Now let's go find a Vulcan."

McCoy raised his hand and tried to back way. "Oh no, no, no. You want him as your First Officer. You convince him. Don't expect me to help."

Jim gave him the puppy dog eyes. "You heard Archer. We're all part of that command team. You have to be part of this too." Grabbing Bones' arm, Jim dragged the man along despite his protests.

As always feedback is appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Tripping Place 4/9  
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty  
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.  
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this.

Classes started up again shortly after they arrived back to Earth, and they were a nightmare. Sure, he had his fair share of attention before, but the whole savior-of-the-Earth poster boy thing got old real fast, and there was no way for him to avoid it. The once-packed lecture halls were now so empty that after the first few awkward sessions they were moved to small classrooms, but that only helped to serve as an even greater reminder of the reason why so many were absent.

Out of Jim's eight classes, only three of them were taught by the same teachers that had taught them before they'd been called away to Vulcan. The instructors that were left were doubling and sometimes even tripling or quadrupling their class loads to pick up the slack of the missing professors. A number of civilian instructors were even brought in fill the gaps that the current faculty could not.

The grief was a constant bombardment to his shields, and at the end of the day he was left drained and exhausted. After the second sleepless night filled with tears and nightmares, Bones told him to stop being an idiot and get into his bed, so they could both get some sleep. Jim did as he always did and swallowed his pride and did as he was told, knowing that the other man was hurting too, but had too much pride to ask for help. If Bones had taught him one thing, it was that there was no shame in needing someone.

One of his classes had been postponed for a week for unknown reasons, so he was shocked when he walked into the room to find Spock of all people standing at the front of the room. But when he thought about it, it made sense. The man had needed time to be debriefed and questioned, as well as time to prepare for the new classes he had to teach. He knew that despite the man's resignation, he was still bound by his contract to teach the remainder of the semester.

When he arrived, the class was too full for Jim to say anything, but the fact that the Vulcan didn't acknowledge him, not even for to call on him for answers, ticked Jim off to no end. When the bell finally rang announcing the end of class, he stayed in his seat as the rest of the room's occupants hurriedly gathered their materials and all but ran from the room. While it was true that Commander Spock's way of teaching was a bit _different_than that of most professors and his intolerance of rule breakers was legendary, Jim didn't understand the fear that so many had for him. Jim mused that maybe it was him that was weird since Spock had tried to expel him and then kill him, and he didn't hold an ounce of fear for him.

Seeing the shadow pass over his desk, he looked up to see Spock standing over him, face as impassive as ever. "Is there something you needed, Cadet Kirk?"

Jim knew the title was a jibe and from most anyone else would have commented on it, but didn't see the point here. "Oh, so you do remember me. And here I was thinking that you'd forgotten me already. Or maybe I'm just special, and that's why you've chosen to ignore me today."

"While there is no need to inflate your overgrown ego, it would be unlikely I would ever forget you. Given that you have had firsthand experience with much of the material that we covered today, I thought it was best to challenge those that did not already know the answers. As you say I was not 'ignoring' you. Now if that is all you wished to discuss, then I suggest you hurry to your next class or you will be late, and I will not provide you with a pass." Spock turned away before Jim could answer, and before he thought it through his hand shot out, grabbing the Vulcan's bare wrist, ignoring the way the man tensed.

"Oh yeah. I'm sure that's the only reason. It has nothing to do with your feelings for me. Our time together on the Enterprise meant nothing to you. Of course not. You never do anything that's not proper and logical, do you?" Jim cursed his foot in the mouth syndrome as Spock tensed even more. He felt the sudden rage radiating from the Vulcan and fought not to flinch back from the intensity of the feeling.

"As your view of me is quite clear, remove your hand this instance, or I shall remove it for you." Spock's voice was so icy despite the overpowering heat of his rage, and fought the urge to shiver.

But Jim didn't let go. "Look, shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't come here to fight you. I thought we'd made progress. I'm just pissed that you ignored me. I don't do well being ignored."

"Obviously a skill you should begin to foster," the Vulcan intoned, and while he did not relax at all, he did attempt to pull away. "Again I ask: was there something you needed?"

Jim ducked his head sheepishly and cursed himself an idiot. This wasn't how he's planned this. Well he hadn't really planned this, but none of his outcomes went like this. Straightening himself to his full height, he met the Vulcan's eyes unflinchingly. "As Captain of the Enterprise, I formally request your presence aboard as my First Officer and lead Science Officer."

Jim could almost imagine the slight crinkle of surprise at the corner of those expressive eyes, or maybe Jim was just picking up on the man's surprise through his touch, but either way he didn't expect Spock to flat out refuse so fast.

"Thank you for the offer, but I regret to inform you that I cannot accept the position. I have already presented my resignation to the Admiralty, and shall take my leave to help with the rebuilding of Vulcan civilization as soon as classes are finished."

"Oh, bullshit. I've seen how they treat you, like a pariah because of your mixed blood. Do you think I didn't see it on the ship? Even with so much death, they still couldn't accept you. Do you really want to martyr yourself for them? You have so much more to offer here. Starfleet can offer you so much more. We were a great team. You can't deny that. We can do great things together. What kind of life would you lead there? Your skills would be wasted. You wouldn't be happy there."

"Be that as it may, it is unrelated to the situation. My happiness is irrelevant. I have long since come to terms with how others view me and it is of no consequence. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. I shall fulfill my duty to my race. I do not want to hear anymore on this subject. Now if that is all, I shall take my leave."

Before Jim had a chance to protest, Spock pulled his wrist from Jim's grasp as though it was nothing, which to the Vulcan it probably wasn't, and was out the door faster than Jim had thought possible. Jim just blinked and cursed aloud. That could have gone better. But then it could have gone worse.

Still grumbling, Jim gathered up his books and went to meet Bones, who was probably pissed that he was late. It wasn't anything new, but this time he really had a good excuse. When he saw Bones across the quad and the scowl that the older man wore, he briefly considered turning tail and running because it wasn't often that he saw the doctor's face so dark, and as far as he knew he hadn't done anything to deserve it for once. But Bones saw him while he wasted time being indecisive and it was too late, so Jim walked over to his friend with all the enthusiasm of a man about to meet the firing squad.

Jim opened his mouth to voice a greeting, but abruptly closed it as Bones grabbed his arm and started pulling him along.

Bones' growled, "God dammit, Jim. If you're going to convince that copper-blooded machine to be your First Officer, you need to not get yourself kicked out of his class."

Jim stumbled as his feet tried to stop in their place, but Bones continued dragging him along, as he squawked, "What?"

"Commander Spock wanted me to inform you that he was giving you an automatic pass in his class, as you had proven you had already mastered all the material and that there was nothing more that he could teach you, so there was no reason for you to return to the class. He informed me that all the paperwork would be taken care of before the evening. Dammit, man, what did you do this time?"

Jim knew he was doing a great impression of a fish, but couldn't help it. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought that he'd upset the Vulcan this much and didn't understand why he would do this. "Um, I may have put my foot in my mouth." A Bones' dark look, Jim hurriedly continued on. "But I apologized! It didn't go that bad. I just need to work on wearing him down. I know that given time, I'll be able to convince him. He'll see."

Bones didn't look so convinced. "Well, given his actions, I don't think he's impressed, or planning on changing his mind anytime soon, so you better start thinking about changing your strategy. Come on. I'm starving. You can discuss your mad genius plans over dinner."

Jim sighed and agreed. But they didn't talk about it over dinner. The mood in the mess hall was too depressing, and he did more playing with his food than actual eating. He wasn't sure if he even managed more than a bite or two. After ten uncomfortable minutes, he abruptly stood and deposited his tray in the receptacle, telling Bones that he "needed some air."

The doctor looked ready to follow or argue, but gave in, but not before giving Jim the look that said that they'd talk later. Jim nodded, knowing his friend would hold him to it and not wanting to argue right now.

Jim just walked, not paying attention to where he was going until one of his professors addressed him in greeting. Startled, he looked around and realized he'd walked farther than he'd realized and was outside the apartment set aside for instructors. He turned a circle wondering why his feet led him here, of all places, as he'd never been here before.

Suddenly seeing Uhura stepping out of one of the buildings, he wasn't sure who was more surprised, him or her. She flushed under her dark complexion, but didn't act ashamed and gave him a look that dared him to say anything. Jim just inclined his head in greeting and gave her a small sad smile. She looked startled, but returned it. He didn't expect her to walk towards him and wondered what she was doing.

He wasn't sure what surprised him more, her words or the following actions.

Stepping in front of him, she tilted her chin up to look at him before saying, "While I don't like everything you did, and am still pissed at you, I never got a chance to thank you." His eyes went wide as she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Jim." And then she turned and walked away, back straight and head held high.

A motion in a window above him caught his eye. Glancing up, he froze as he met Spock's unreadable gaze, wondering how much the Vulcan had seen and what the man was going to do about it. When he disappeared from the window, Jim did a quick count and mental measurement and entered the building. Knocking on a door, he held his breath and hoped he'd chosen right. A full minute passed with no sound or motion from inside.

Sighing in defeat Jim turned around, not letting himself give into the urge to just break in, particularly since he knew Spock was inside. He gasped as the door suddenly sprung open and then yelped as a hand landed on his shoulder and yanked him inside. The door was ceremoniously closed and locked and he barely had a chance to draw a breath for words, before he was slammed back against the wall of the hallway and the breath whooshed out of him just as quickly.

He squeezed his eyes shut expecting a punch, but as the seconds ticked by and none came, he hesitantly opened one eye and then the other. Spock was standing stoically before him, hand still slightly gripping his shoulder, eyes drilling into him as though searching for all the answers in the universe, and finding him lacking.

When Spock made no move to talk or let him go, his voice cut sharp through the growing tension, "If you're going to hit me, can you get on with it. This waiting in suspense thing is not cool."

Jim felt Spock's already racing heart increase through the touch on his shoulder, and the man released him suddenly as if he'd been burned, taking a step back.

"Why would I hit you?"

Jim couldn't stop the words. "Because your girlfriend kissed me?"

Jim gulped.

But Spock didn't react. "What she is to me is of no concern to you. Her actions are her own."

"So does that mean you aren't mad?"

"Vulcans do not get 'mad'."

Jim just stared at him in disbelief. "Then what do you call what happened on the bridge?"

"A momentary lapse of control."

Jim just stared at the Vulcan as though he'd grown a second head, not believing how full of shit the Vulcan could get. Impulsively he asked, "Want to play chess? You do have a chess board, right?"

Jim almost laughed as he picked up on Spock's surprise and intrigue.

"Very well. Follow me."

Jim followed Spock down the hall into the main living area, and stood awkwardly as he motioned him to stay. The man disappeared through a doorway only to reappear a moment later with a 3D chess set. Jim grinned at the prospect, not having played that version of the game in years and then wondered what the hell he was doing here.

The game was quickly set up, and Spock said, "I believe it is your turn to begin."

Jim nodded and took the first move. As usual there was very little talking except the occasional comment on a certain move from Spock and Jim's crowing when he took a piece. Also as was usual with their games, he didn't notice how much time had passed until Bones' called his comm and asked where the hell he was.

Jim looked at the time was shocked. "Shit, Spock, I'm sorry. You probably had plans or things to do tonight, and I wasted your evening."

Spock just stared at him across the board. "As a Vulcan I am always conscious of the time. I had no plans and no work that was of high priority."

Jim unexpectedly yawned hugely, and had the grace to look embarrassed, but Spock just continued on.

"I also do not require nearly as much sleep as humans, so I have a number of hours before I need to rest, and thus a number of hours in which I can still work."

Jim's eyes widened at the man's next words. "Seeing the late hour, if you so desire, you can sleep on the couch. I have extra blankets."

Jim didn't know what to make of the offer or how to respond, but finally found himself rejecting the offer. "Wow, sir, thanks for the offer. But I really do need to get back to my place. Bones will probably have a cow if I don't, and I still have a paper I need to finish." He winced as he remembered. "Shit, I'm not going to get any sleep."

"Procrastination is not an exemplary skill of a Captain. I hope you hasten to rid yourself of such a weakness. If you wish to get back to your residence before curfew, I suggest you leave now, as I will not offer an excuse for you. And do not think that your status would keep you out of trouble. As a student of this Academy there are no exceptions."

"There are _always_exceptions. And of course you won't," Jim just grumbled and scowled at the man, who had no place to talk as he didn't know the details or what it was like to take so many classes at once. Walking towards the door, he paused at Spock's next words.

"Seeing as how I have not had a chance to file the paperwork with your course waiver yet, I expect to see you in class tomorrow."

Jim grinned hugely. "Of course, sir!"

Opening the door, he stepped into the hall and was about to close the door behind him, when Spock's voice made him pause again.

"I also expect to see you here at the same time tomorrow evening to continue our game."

Jim stuck his head back in the door and shot off a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

Jim practically skipped his way home, and even Bones' scowl couldn't keep the spring out of his step or deflate his sails, not even when the man started growling.

"You should have called."

"Jesus, Bones. Calm down. I told you I just lost track of time."

Bones just looked at him skeptically, and then gave him _that_look. "So who was she?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Who was who?"

"God dammit, Jim. Don't play games right now. You know I worry about you."

Jim suddenly felt guilty because it was true. His friend put up with more than his fair share of shit, and still hadn't run off yet, which Jim was thankful for, but couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe would drop as had always happened in the past. Turning to face Bones, he said, "I wasn't out with anyone."

He continued despite Bones' disbelieving gaze. "Not in the way you mean. I was with Spock."

Jim eyes went wide, and he fought the urge to cover his ears as Bones exploded, "What?"

"Fuck, Bones! Not like that! We just played chess, same as we did on the ship. It was great. We mixed it up this time and played 3D chess. First time I've played it in years."

Jim suddenly stopped talking and backed up as a tricorder suddenly appeared in McCoy's hand and the doctor moved towards him. "What the hell, Bones?"

"I need to check and make sure you aren't suffering from a brain parasite because you're talking crazy."

"Haha, very funny, Bones. Seriously quit it. I have a plan."

Bones reluctantly lowered the device and looked at Jim skeptically. "You have a plan," he repeated.

Jim just laughed and said defensively, "Hey, they aren't all bad. Look at the last one. We managed to save the planet."

"Uh huh," McCoy nodded, still skeptical. "So tell me this all powerful, master plan."

"I'm going to be his friend."

Bones waited.

And waited.

And finally. "That's it?"

Jim looked uncomfortable. "Um, yeah."

"Wow. That's lame even for you."

"Hey!" Jim protested. "That's not nice."

"When have you even known me to be nice?"

Jim laughed. "Point." Looking at the time he groaned. "Shit. I still have to finish that paper."

Bones laughed. "I told you putting it off was going to come back and bite you in the ass. I'm going to bed, so keep quiet."

"Gee, thanks for the support, asshole."

"Anytime."

"Love you too."

"Back at you."

The following day sucked hard. He hadn't realized how sleep deprived he'd been lately until he got even less sleep than normal. He wondered when almost no sleep had become 'normal' and if he should be worried. He knew it was a stupid move to fall asleep when he had to be up two hours later, but even knowing that he'd probably feel like crap, the prospect of some sleep was just too tempting and gave in. He'd looked forward to the reprieve that Spock's class would be, but again he couldn't be that lucky. Today Spock, being the evil slave driver that he was, called on Jim every chance he got, and then told him to stay after class.

Ignoring the sympathetic glances of his classmates he did as he was told, too tired to care what sort of reprimand the Vulcan would bestow on him. He was surprised when the Vulcan instead told him to go home and sleep, and that they could finish their game at a later date. Jim of course protested, saying some food and coffee would do him good, and before the Vulcan could dissuade him went off to do just that.

The food and coffee hadn't helped him as much as he'd thought and he'd brushed off Bones' hounding about getting some sleep, and the dangers of consuming so much caffeine. He was a big boy. He'd been taking care of himself for years. Standing outside Spock's door, he knocked quietly, debating the smartness of this, even the saneness of this, if he shouldn't have just gone home and slept it off. But he said he was going to be there, and he wasn't one to go back on his word.

Spock opened the door the instant his hand met the wood this time, and he blinked stupidly at the man. It was the first time he'd seen the Vulcan out of uniform. The t-shirt wasn't surprising, and while his bare feet were slightly more so, they were not the draw of Jim's fascination. No, it was the sight of the faded blue jeans that encased that man's impossibly long legs, threadbare in a way that only long use and many washing could provide.

Not realizing that he'd been staring so long, he dragged his gaze up to Spock's face and the man's almost defensive words.

"They are comfortable and were a gift from my mother."

Jim raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, man no need to be defensive. Your mother had good taste. It's just I've never had the good fortune to see a Vulcan wearing them. They look great. You should wear them out sometime."

Spock stared at him for a moment, before backing into the apartment, giving Jim room to enter. "I am unsure if you are being facetious or serious. The subtleties of human humor are beyond me."

"Hey, I don't lie." At Spock's droll look, he continued. "unless the situation calls for it, which it does not. Hey, I could teach you about humor."

"Others have attempted to do so in the past and have failed. While I do believe you are capable of it, I do not see the necessity for me to learn such a skill."

Jim whistled. "Wow, I never thought I'd see the day that a Vulcan would pass up the chance to gain more knowledge."

Spock's brow rose, and he said, "Very well, but at a later time. We have a game to finish." He motioned towards the still set game from the night before.

Jim grinned at his luck. This was going to be fun. "I'll hold you to it."

Sitting down, they picked up where they'd left off the night before, but between the increasingly frequent, massive yawns that escaped him despite his best efforts to smother them, Jim realized that he was doing extremely poorly, and between one move and the next he closed his eyes for a moment. He startled when he felt himself being lowered but was hushed as his head hit the pillow and his legs joined him on the couch. He had a brief moment to realize a blanket was being tucked around him before sleep swept him away.

When he next awoke, he was disoriented and the first thing he noticed was that he was massively hot as he struggled to get rid of the offending blanket. He realized he wasn't in his bed at the same instant he realized he was still fully clothed and he rolled off the couch to hit the floor with a painful thud.

Groaning as the air was knocked out of him, he froze when he saw a pair of feet appear before his eyes. Following those feet up, he winced in embarrassment as he realized that it was Spock. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep like that in the middle of the game. He struggled to get to his feet, but the blanket was still wrapped stubbornly around them.

He froze as Spock crouched down next to him and deftly untangled the offending blanket. When his feet were free, he was surprised when Spock straightened and offered him his hand. He stared dumbly at the proffered hand for a minute before he took it and was swiftly pulled to his feet as though he weighed nothing. But then again, Vulcans were three times stronger than humans.

"I'm so sorry for falling asleep on you like that. You should have kicked me out." Jim said, still embarrassed over the situation.

"It was no hardship for you to sleep here. Why would I 'kick you out' when you were comfortable where you were?"

Jim sighed, in no way awake enough for this conversation. "Look, I get the logic, but people do not usually let strangers sleep over."

Spock just stared at him. "You are not a stranger."

Jim bit back a growl. "Don't be obtuse. You know what I mean. You don't know me."

"I know you," Spock replied.

Jim's brow raised in challenge.

And Spock surprised him, "You are the son of George Kirk, but do not wish to be shackled to his name. You wish to be known for your own prowess. You are a genius that hides behind masks of careless promiscuity and easy smiles. Your record as a ne'er do well is the result of boredom and wasted talents. You—"

Jim felt himself go pale at the man's words, how apparently transparent he was to the Vulcan. And then the anger set in. "That's enough!" he demanded. "You're one to talk about wasted talents. What do you think you'll be doing wherever the Vulcans decide to settle? They'll have you calculating crop chances and weather cycles for the rest of your life. Is that really the life you want? I at least realized that I was wasting my life. I can't let you do the same."

Spock didn't so much as blink during Jim's tirade. "You do not allow me to do anything. My choices are my own."

Jim opened his mouth to protest but paused as Spock continued.

"However, I will agree to think more on the matter if you will agree to not bring it up again."

Jim eyed him suspiciously. "How do I know you haven't already made up your mind on this?"

"Vulcans do not lie."

Jim was not impressed.

"There is no such thing as a certainty."

That sounded better to Jim's ears and he nodded.

"Very well. Would you care for some breakfast? I am currently making Krentjebrij. I believe you will find it pleasing."

"Krentjebrij?" Jim questioned, proud that he didn't completely butcher the foreign word.

"It's a kind of fruit soup from the Netherlands made from berries and barley cooked to a mush. It has the consistency of oatmeal. Please take a seat. I do not have coffee, but can offer tea."

Jim sat and while he wasn't sure about the 'fruit soup', it smelt good at least. "Tea's great, thanks."

Spock went into the kitchen and began rummaging around, and Jim was left to his own devices and became lost in thought. Jim wasn't sure what was going on here. He was used to being in control, and things here were rapidly spiraling out of control. Yes, the plan was to make friends with Spock, but he hadn't expected the man to know him so well already, to be so good at observing people. Jim counted on people underestimating him. He knew that wasn't possible with Spock and that scared him.

He jumped and then smiled sheepishly in thanks as Spock set a cup of steaming tea in front of him. Taking a tentative sniff, he risked a small sip when nothing overpowered his nose. Well, the tea was weaker than he normally cared for, but it was hot and had caffeine so he couldn't complain. When a steaming bowl of purple mush appeared in front of him a moment later, his stomach suddenly made itself known by growling hungrily in approval.

As Spock took the seat across from his and began eating his meal, Jim hesitantly poked at his, as though expecting it to poke back. Giving in, Jim dug his spoon in and took a hesitant bite. He was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't bad. The texture wasn't quite like anything he'd ever had before. The closest thing he could come up with was rice pudding, but even that wasn't right, so he gave up trying to classify it and just enjoyed it.

When the bowl was empty he looked at it rather sadly for a moment. Spock finished his own, then taking both bowls disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, only to reappear with bowls full again.

"Thanks!" Jim said as he grabbed his and dug in. Now that his hunger was satisfied he took his time to savor the meal. It was growing on him, and he decided that he needed to get the recipe from Spock and if nothing else, program his replicator to make it. He frowned in distaste at the thought as he was one of the people that found the food and drink it produced to be lacking. He wasn't sure that he bought into the hype that 'love' was missing from it, but there definitely was something missing from replicated consumables.

When they both finished this time, Jim gathered up the dishes despite Spock's attempts to try and help. "You cooked, so I'm cleaning. Don't argue."

Jim knew there was something strange going on with his First Officer (he couldn't allow himself to believe that Spock wasn't going to fill the position), had been for months now. It was nothing major, never anything worth commenting about, but Jim felt he knew Spock well enough to know that something was going on with the Vulcan. While he had nothing to go on but his gut instincts, something told him that this was important. He asked Bones to keep an eye on him and his habits, but the doctor saw Spock even less than Jim did and so far he hadn't been able to pinpoint anything that could be wrong or that was significantly different. There were little shifts in diet, sleep time, rec time, and work output, but even all put together it wasn't enough to raise the alarm.

But still Jim watched. When the night came that Spock was late for their usual chess game he grew worried and those worries were not staunched by the Vulcan's obvious distraction during their game. After that Jim really began to watch him, taking note of his actions and being careful not to be too overt in his observations. He began to notice the way that the man would occasionally scrunch his nose up as though in distaste or the small tilts of his head as though he was listening or looking at something far away. Then there were the small pauses, barely noticeable, that occasionally happened when called on for a report, but they were there.

Taking his concerns to Bones, his friend just laughed at him, and told him maybe it was time he started looking for another habit because Spock-watching had obviously begun to addle his brain.

The following two months flew by quicker than Jim imagined they would, even as impatient as he was to get back on the Enterprise. Classes were a breeze, but the number of papers and assignments he had to write were ridiculous. He didn't understand why he had to work out the same type of problem hundreds of times when he had proven himself capable of answering them the first few times. Repetition had its uses, but it was a waste of time here. When he wasn't in classes, working on assignments, or sleeping, he was over at Spock's, or trying to drag Bones over to Spock, but so far the man had begged off every time, conveniently getting called away to the point that Jim knew that it was more than a mere coincidence.

Jim kept his word and didn't bring up the matter of Spock as his First Officer as he'd promised, but it was often at the forefront of his mind. While they often played chess, that wasn't all they did. Jim had known the man was smart; despite his dislike of the Kobayashi Maru, he had to admit it was a masterpiece. When he'd gone over the programming to insert his subroutine he might have drooled a little. Spock was a Vulcan after all, but Jim knew that Spock also wouldn't have made it as far as he had at such a young age without being exceedingly gifted.

So Jim was pleasantly surprised when he found out the man had a great deal of knowledge on Earth's history. Not only could he hold conversations with Spock about the newest warp technology, quantum mechanics, and astrophysics, but also on mythology, philosophy, psychology, and even music and the arts. He was delighted to learn that the Vulcan enjoyed reading paper books as much as he did, despite the illogicalness of them taking up so much space when a whole library could fit onto a PADD. Jim just smiled and said that things didn't need to be logical for you to enjoy them.

Finals were a joke, and Jim wasn't even attending his own graduation as the Enterprise was scheduled to ship out the day after finals ended. He took his seat with equal parts excitement and apprehension. Spock had never given him an answer, but Archer hadn't sent a replacement, so Jim knew there was still a chance. He couldn't help but smile as Spock walked onto the bridge, and his grin threatened to split his face as the Vulcan offered to provide character references. Jim shared a conspiratorial smile with Bones and couldn't help but feel that things were finally as they should be.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Tripping Place 5/9  
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty  
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.  
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this.

Things had gone smoothly, perhaps a little too smoothly until the first wrench was thrown into the works four months into their five years mission. Jim knew that he shouldn't be there, that he had a million other things he should be attending to, but receiving word that his First Officer had gone comatose as soon as he'd been beamed down the planet's surface had sent Jim straight to sickbay despite knowing that he'd just be in a way and was safe in Bones' skilled hands. So far Spock seemed to be the only one affected, but the rest of the surface party was quarantined as well despite their complaints. Policy was better to err on the side of caution rather than allow a possible illness or contaminant to affect the ship.

Jim was worried when Bones informed him from behind the glass that he couldn't find a reason for Spock's state. All the tests came back negative, except scans showed that there was increased neurological activity that seemed contrary to Spock's currently seemingly comatose state. As Bones was talking the monitors suddenly screamed and Jim turned around fearing the worse, but was surprised to see Spock's eyes open and staring at him. Bones rushed over and gave him a sedative as the monitors showed his heart rate and blood pressure reaching dangerous levels, and the screeching immediately stopped.

But now it was Jim's heart that was racing, wondering what was wrong with his friend and First Officer. After watching Bones do another set of tests, the doctor informed him that whatever was causing his odd brain activity seemed to have passed. Bones told Jim to go and get some rest as Spock wasn't going to be awake anytime soon, and Jim grudgingly did as he was told.

He stopped by the next morning before his shift to check on Spock. As he approached the glass barrier, he was startled as Spock's eyes snapped open and locked with his almost as if the Vulcan had sensed him. "Mr. Spock, how are you feeling?"

"I am well, Captain. I must admit, I do not have memories of how I ended up here. The last thing I recall is beaming down to the planet." Spock sat up slowly, causing the pile of blankets to pool in his lap.

"I assume you haven't talked to Bones yet?" At Spock's headshake, Jim continued on. "You passed out on us as soon as you set foot on the surface, Spock. The cause is unknown and scans did not pick up anything abnormal except some increased neurological activity. None of the other crewmembers appear to be affected, but we've quarantined you all as a precaution. Have you been experiencing any symptoms before this?"

There was an almost indiscernible pause, anyone that didn't know the man wouldn't have noticed, before Spock answered. "No, Captain. My health is exceptional."

Jim gave him a hard look, knowing that Vulcans, or at least this particular Vulcan could and would lie, and yes Spock looked vaguely uncomfortable with the question, but Jim hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Spock had been different since the loss of his planet, but it was to be expected. Spock was his normal efficient self on the bridge and still appeared for their chess games. For now Jim would let it slide, but he would be keeping a close eye on the Vulcan.

Jim nodded, "I'm glad to hear it. I need to call Bones. He won't be pleased that he wasn't informed the instant you woke up. And the Alpha shift starts soon. I need to be on my way."

Spock nodded. "Of course, Captain. Do not be late because of me. There is no need to worry."

Jim didn't need to call Bones as the man walked in the door just as he was about to. Informing him that Spock was awake and seemed fine he made his way to the bridge. However, despite Spock's insistence that all was fine, he could not help but worry.

Despite Bones' tests, he was unable to find the cause of Spock's episode, and a week later the Vulcan was released with the rest of the quarantined crew. Bones wasn't so convinced that there was nothing wrong with the Vulcan, and when he shared his concerns with his Captain, Jim kept an even closer eye on his First Officer than he already had been.

* * *

The first sign that something was still off happened a week later when Spock snapped at an unsuspecting Ensign for forgetting to submit a report, going so far as to say that their incompetence could have endangered the ship, had the report been important. The chastised Ensign looked ready to either start crying and run or piss his pants and faint.

"Spock," Jim had snapped. He had gone too far.

Spock had turned towards him, and Jim was shocked by the naked rage on his first officer's face.

Spock apologized and ran off before Jim could stop him, and then spent the next few days avoiding him, which took some talent and effort given the fact that they shared many shifts. When Jim finally cornered him, the Vulcan was tightlipped, and would say nothing other than that he was sorry and it was a temporary lapse of control. That gave Jim pause and increased his worry as that was the same phrase his friend had used when speaking of the incident between them on the bridge during the Narada incident when Spock had nearly killed him.

A few weeks passed with no incident, but that all changed the day that Spock didn't show up on the bridge for his scheduled shift. Paging the Vulcan's quarters, there was no response despite the computer informing him that Spock was inside. Jim handed over the command and ran, feeling a rush of alarm as he called Bones to meet him in Spock's quarters with a medical team.

He got there first, hurriedly overrode the lock, and impatiently darted through the door as soon as it slid open. Finding the room dark he ordered, "Lights 50%." Blinking at the sudden change, he was surprised to see Spock apparently meditating in the middle of the room with eyes wide open but unseeing. It was unnerving. "Spock?" he hesitantly called. Getting no response, he moved forward, and knelt down to touch the man.

Realizing that Spock was shockingly cool even for a Vulcan, he felt for a pulse and panicked when he found that it was almost human slow, way too slow for a Vulcan, and he saw that despite his deep and even breathing it was also exceedingly slow. At first glance he could almost imagine that this was meditation, but something was off and Spock should have realized someone was there if it truly had been one. He cursed, wondering what was taking medical so long, and shook the Vulcan trying to pull him out of whatever it was that he was stuck in. "Spock. Come on. Snap out of this. We'll figure out what wrong and fix it. Spock, please. We need you."

Spock suddenly inhaled deeply, noisily, and his eyes suddenly focused on the man in front of him, clearly dazed and confused. "Jim?"

Suddenly Bones and his team were there, and Bones, pushing Jim out of the way, began checking vitals and issuing orders while Spock was bundled up on a stretcher and out of the room. Jim moved to follow the team, and Bones growled, "If you set foot in my sickbay before your shift ends, I'll sedate you. I don't need you in the way or underfoot. Go back to the bridge."

Jim scowled, but did as instructed. He didn't like being told that he was practically useless, and hated that he didn't have more knowledge of the field. The rest of the shift was spent glancing at the clock and worrying about Spock. He got very little real work done, and he was happy that there hadn't been anything that had required his attention.

* * *

Bones cursed as the screen went blank. The Vulcans were normally tight lipped about anything related to their health, but the healer he had spoken to hadn't given any indication that she was shocked when he'd asked about pon farr, a topic that he knew to be more than slightly taboo and never discussed with outsiders. It was almost as if she'd expected it. Spock, the one from the future that is, hadn't been available. Knowing it was a long shot, he took a chance in calling Ambassador Sarek, even knowing that Spock would be displeased by his actions.

As Sarek's face appeared on his screen, the Vulcan did not seem shocked to see him and before McCoy could even say a word the Vulcan spoke. "Doctor, my son is experiencing the symptoms as well."

It wasn't a question, but Bones nodded anyway. "I take it you expected a call. What can you tell me?"

Sarek hesitated a moment, as though considering his words. "At first the healers believed it was a mass onset of pon farr, an event that would have reduced our low numbers even further and would have been a dire strike to our dwindling race. After careful analysis of the symptoms, that theory was dismissed. Even with our best doctors working on this, we are no closer to knowing what this affliction is. This malady affects Vulcans from late puberty to those in their prime. No children or adolescents are affected, nor has anyone that has experienced their fifth pon farr. Despite our best efforts we are at a loss, and we fear it is only a matter of time before the deaths begin if we aren't able to find the reason soon."

McCoy considered the information. "I need to see the research."

"As I suspected you would. I have already sent the material. It should arrive shortly."

As if to prove his point Bones' PADD beeped, signaling the reception of a message marked as important.

"Thank you, Ambassador Sarek. I will go over it immediately."

Sarek inclined his head. "Keep me informed." Raising his hand, he intoned. "Live long and prosper."

As the screen went blank, Bones pulled up the data and began reading, making notes here and there, looking up things when needed. The first symptoms noted were obviously the reason why the Vulcans had first thought it was pon farr. The hormonal imbalance and violent outbursts of unrestrained emotions had no other explanation to a Vulcan. But taking into account the other symptoms, the widely fluctuating, out of control senses and the ensuing apparent comas, it led to a very un-Vulcan explanation.

The only possible explanation was so farfetched that Bones wouldn't have believed it if the evidence wasn't right there in front of him. He knew the signs, had the required training, and a considerable amount of experience dealing with them, as was required in his position not only as a doctor but as CMO of a starship. But because Spock was a Vulcan he hadn't considered the possibility. It hadn't even crossed his mind. He should have realized the possibility was there given Spock's half-human status. But even then that didn't explain why it was affecting so many full blooded Vulcans.

They were Sentinels and Guides. Sentinels were individuals who normally after a period of isolation in the wilderness developed heightened senses. It could range from two senses to all five. In ancient times they were called tribal protectors, the watchmen and scouts. Guides were always paired with Sentinels to help them control their senses at first, then later to be used as a baseline to keep them under control. There had long been a sense of mysticism surrounding Guides due to the strangeness of their psi abilities, only recognized for what they really were in the last century. They were considered little more than myth until the late twentieth century, when Dr. Blair Sandburg published his work on the subject, claiming that he was a Guide to a Sentinel with five senses. The idea had been rejected as ludicrous at first, but when more and more people came forward with such senses it quickly became obvious that it was a very real phenomenom.

He was at a loss both by the number awakening, but also because it was a known fact that Vulcan were not Sentinels. It was a well-documented but little studied fact that all of the seeded races had the potential to be Sentinels. That is all races except Vulcans. In all of their carefully detailed post-Surak history there was no mention of Sentinels and with the race's extreme desire for privacy and their tightlippedness about anything to do with their biology, there had very little progress in finding out why. It made little sense because intel told tales of Romulan Sentinels, and given the apparent biological similarities between Romulans and Vulcans, there should have been Vulcan Sentinels.

And now there were. He noted at some level it must be related to some sort of survival instinct, a need to live and protect, a drive that had apparently been all but shut down with the species change from war to pacifism. With a sudden start Bones realized that the Guides were all untrained, they had no way they could understand what was happening. They needed outside help. Making a quick return call to Sarek, he informed the Vulcan of his findings and Sarek agreed that help was needed. Bones agreed to wait and call the Federation until after Sarek was able to arrange a meeting of the Elders and get their input as well. But he knew the clock was ticking. It was time to tell Spock and Jim what he'd found out.

* * *

"Spock's a Sentinel, and Jim I believe he considers you his Guide."

At Bones' proclamation, Jim jerked back from his position at Spock's bedside as if burned, sending his chair crashing into the bed behind it. He looked wildly between Bones and Spock, and then without a backwards glance darted out of door, ignoring Bones' shouts and startling Nurse Chapel so badly she dropped her PADD as he ran out of the sickbay. If he had looked back he would have seen the wounded look that crossed Spock's face before he was able to prevent it, having misinterpreted the fear and self-disgust on Jim's face as fear and disgust instead directed at him.

Jim didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away. Bones was wrong. Bones had to be wrong. But Jim knew that Bones was rarely wrong. He didn't allow himself to think about it now though. He just had to get away, had to distance himself. He couldn't be what Spock needed. Spock couldn't have chosen him, shouldn't have chosen him. Jim couldn't risk what they had, couldn't risk destroying their friendship and partnership because he was too broken to be what Spock needed.

And he knew he was. Had known since Tarsus. Something wasn't right in him, despite what Bones said. The other doctors had been right; he was defective and broken, unfit to serve as a Guide. His history only proved that.

Jim remembered when his friend had found out.

* * *

Jim knew he needed to go out, but classes had kept him busier than usual. The material was dry and well below him, but he'd tested out of the maximum number of courses he could already, and papers didn't write themselves. He'd caught Bones looking at him oddly more than once the past couple days as he got more and more twitchy. He'd hoped that he could make it to the weekend but had waited too long. Jim knew he couldn't put it off any longer despite it being the middle of the week.

He thought he was being crafty when crawled under the covers fully clothed, while his roommate was in the bathroom. When Bones came out he pretended to be asleep as the other man turned off the lights and climbed into his own bed. Long minutes passed as he laid there still and silent listening to the other man's breathing. When it finally evened out into the rhythmic sound of sleep, he waited a few more minutes before he quietly lifted the covers and carefully padded across the room.

Slipping into his shoes near the door, not bothering to tie them, he reached to open the door and nearly jumped out of his skin as a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, yanking it back. He fought down the urge to shout as he spun around, barely able to make out McCoy's outline, yelping, "Bones!"

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Bones hissed clearly unhappy.

"Out," Jim said petulantly, trying to shake off Bones' hand. The contact was both too much and not enough, enough to make him itch for more, but not enough to satisfy.

"In the middle of the week, when you have a test in the morning?" Bones asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "What reason do you have to sneak out in the middle of the night like a miscreant?"

Jim had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but didn't back down. "You were supposed to be asleep."

"I would have been if it wasn't obvious you were up to something. I'm a doctor, Jim. I know how to tell the difference between when a person's sleeping and not, and you were obviously not." Bones sighed, obviously tired, and Jim felt briefly guilty for keeping his normally sleep deprived friend up.

"Well, shit." Jim replied, he obviously wasn't thinking right, didn't normally allow it to get this bad, didn't know why he couldn't have just been normal.

"So, you going to tell me what you were doing?" At Jim's silence McCoy pulled him farther back into the room. Stumbling over something in darkness he ordered, "Lights 30%." He blinked at the sudden light, and then froze as he got his first real look at Jim. He was pale and wide-eyed, his pupils so widely dilated that the blue of his irises were barely visible. Jim's hair was plastered to his forehead despite the frigid blasting of the AC, and Bones finally noticed the racing pulse and how tightly wound Jim was as he tried to control the slight tremble of the wrist still in his grasp.

"Dammit, Jim! What the hell are you on? Speed, meth, PCP?" Shoving Jim down onto the bed, he reached for his tricorder.

Jim yelped as he hit the bed and almost fell off the other side. "Dammit, Bones, stop it!" He smacked his hand away as the tricorder got near him. "I'm not on anything," He said, giving Bones an icy look.

By the doctor just ignored him and began his scan. "Well, if you're not on anything then you're sick."

"Seriously, I'm fine. I just need to go out. It's just one of those things that I really need to take care of on my own. There's nothing you can do." Jim was desperate now with Bones so close, so tempting.

He made a move to stand up and Bones promptly pushed him pack down.

It was suddenly all too much. Closing his eyes, Jim abruptly grabbed onto his friend and pulled the man down on top of him. He ignored the sound of the tricorder clattering across the floor and cut off the doctor's startled exclamation by slanting his mouth over Bones'. Shoving his hands under McCoy's shirt he felt instantly relief at the contact. Jim hadn't noticed that Bones had remained frozen on top of him until the man suddenly sagged and kissed him back, forcing his tongue into Jim's mouth.

Jim moaned happily at the reciprocation, but at the sound the body above him abruptly froze and pulled away. Jim's eyes snapped open and locked with Bones who was back up against the wall panting. Jim knew that his own face must have mirrored the growing horror on his friend's. And when McCoy looked away from him in disgust, Jim felt something in his chest break.

Darting to the nearest door, he cursed as he realized it was the bathroom. Locking the door behind him he sank to the floor, pressing up against the wall and pulled his knees close to his chest, making himself as small as possible. He was shaking so hard that his teeth rattled, but he didn't care, didn't fight the tears that streamed down his face. He knew it was too good to last, knew it was only a matter of time before he fucked it up.

Resting his head against the coolness of the tub, he didn't notice the banging on the door or Bones' demands to let him in as he drifted and withdrew further into his mind. He didn't notice the long silence only broken by the occasional curse, nor when the door finally slid open, or the sight of Bones replacing the access panel. He didn't notice the sad, tortured look the older man gave him, or hear the mournful, "Oh, Jim," directed towards him as the man slid to the floor beside him.

Jim did notice the sudden touch to his forehead, brushing his sticky bangs back. Jim's eyes opened wide, and he tried to jerk back from the touch despite how badly he wanted it, needed it, but there's was no place to go trapped as he was between Bones and the tub. And suddenly he was sobbing and babbling broken apologies as he tried to make himself smaller. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. Don't leave me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I couldn't help it. I won't do it again. I promise. I promise. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Bones' reached out hesitantly as though approaching a cornered animal, not sure if he would attack or accept his touch. Jim froze as he touched his arm, but didn't try to pull away. Ever so slowly he wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulder's, giving him every opportunity to stop him. He didn't expect to suddenly find himself with a lapful of limpet, Jim's face pressed almost painfully against his neck. The snot and tears didn't bother him. He dealt with worse on a daily basis as a doctor. He just tightened his hold and petted his hair, wondered what the hell was going on, but knowing better than to force it.

When the shaking finally stopped and the tears gave way to silence, he thought perhaps that Jim had fallen asleep. Shifting to try and find a more comfortable position he jumped when Jim whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jim tried to pull away but McCoy wouldn't let him, afraid he was going to run again, and this time take it outside, and Bones was just too damned tired. He cupped Jim's chin and turned his face to meet his eyes as Jim tried to look anywhere but at him. Bones' chest tightened as the Jim's face shuttered, stealing himself for the worst, and those blue eyes welled with tears again. "Jim, I love you. You're the closest thing to family I have, but I can't do that with you, can't be that for you. I—"

Jim placed his hand over Bones' mouth, stopping whatever he was going to say. "I know. I love you too. I didn't mean to, I couldn't help it. You're the only one that puts up with my shit, and if I lost that I don't know what I'd do." Jim took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not a psi null, Bones."

Bones' eyebrow rose, suddenly not liking where this was going. "But your medical f—"

"I know. They were altered." Jim interrupted, and continued on before the doctor could ask why. "I have one of the highest empathy scores that the doctors had ever seen." Bones' face darkened realizing what that meant. "They were supposed to monitor me, protect me, but they didn't realize it was already too late, and I just slipped through the cracks of the system because of who I was." Jim couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

He started talking and couldn't stop. Told Bones the things he'd never breathed a word to anyone before, about his mom, Frank, Sam, the fights and the beatings, the alcohol, and drugs, and sex. Everything that he'd never been able to share before. He didn't start crying again till he talked about Tarsus IV, when he finally got the guts to look at Bones and saw his friend crying for him, for what he'd been through, something no one had ever done before for him. And then he froze when he remembered the rescue the shrinks and all their psych tests. He bit back the sob that welled from deep, inside of him. "They said that I was broken, that I wasn't fit to be a Guide." And for the first time since he learned that, since they told him that he allowed himself to cry. He couldn't hold back the sob, and he quickly buried his face in McCoy's shirt.

He didn't tell his friend about Quinn, couldn't speak of the tiny, wraithlike girl. There were no tests for Sentinels the experts said, no way to identify them until they appeared they said. But they were wrong. Jim knew the first instance he saw her, tiny, fragile Quinn, that she would grow up to be a Sentinel. And he'd also known the instant he saw her, that she wouldn't live to grow up. She'd been too weak, too sick from starvation. But oh, that didn't mean he hadn't tried. He'd given up his rations for her, known that the others snuck food to her as well, but she hadn't been able to keep it down. And she had just gotten more ill, more frail.

He'd tried to steal some medicine from Kodos' enclave but got caught, and when he'd finally escaped it, he'd gone back with no medication and missing a piece of himself. He hadn't truly expected her to still be alive when he got back, had no way of knowing how long Kodos and his men had had him, though he knew it was a while, but he hadn't truly been surprised when he came back and found her still alive. He'd brushed off the other kids, ignoring their inquiries on where he'd been, what happened, was he hurt?

Kneeing down beside her, he'd brushed her dark curls away from her forehead, grinning slightly as the unruly mass sprung back into place. He'd winced at the sound of air rattling wetly through her lungs, the simple action shaking her entire frame, and carefully took her frail hand in his. Skin so thin it was nearly translucent had hugged her bones and did nothing to hide the vivid streaks of her blue veins, so startling a contrast to the paleness of her skin. Her eyes had opened and she blinked huge grey eyes up at him for a moment before she realized who it was and smiled incredibly.

Jim had angrily blinked and swallowed past the sudden lump in this throat, having promised himself that he wouldn't cry again. But both the feel of her happiness at the sight of him, and her acceptance of her death had been too much to bear. It hadn't been fair, she was too young to die, hadn't even had a chance to live. But if he'd learned anything so far in his short life, it was that life wasn't fair. Tarsus IV just proved that.

"JT," she'd breathed, so soft he might have imagined it. She weakly tugged on him, and he sank down, lowering his head towards hers. "Don't be afraid."

Jim had looked at her not understanding, but she'd just smiled again. Then she'd taken one last rattling breath, let it out and was still. Her hand had gone limp in his, but still she smiled, and he prayed to a god that he didn't believe in that she was at peace as he reached up and closed her eyes with his free hand.

Jim had felt at the time that with her death, she'd taken a part of him with her. Then the doctors had forced themselves into his brain when he refused to talk about it. Appalled by what they'd seen they'd locked part of him away, had said that he was broken, unfit, but gave no explanation as to why.

Bones fury knew no boundaries as he realized how badly the system had failed Jim, what they'd subjected him to. "Aww, kid. They were wrong."

Pulling away from Jim, Bones didn't miss the hurt that crossed his face before it was quickly hidden. But he got a small smile when Jim saw that Bones was just getting up and took his offered hand. Throwing his arm around Jim's shoulder he led them back to the bedroom, and said, "Okay, kid. Lose the clothes." The look on Jim's face might have been comical in any other situation. "Unless you want to sleep in them. It's getting late."

Understanding dawned on him and Jim hurriedly stripped to his boxers as Bones crawled into bed. Turning to get into his own bed, he stopped and turned as Bones called, "Jim."

Bones held up the edge of the blanket. "Get in."

Jim just blinked, not really understanding.

"Come to bed. Just to sleep." He raised the blanket higher.

Jim hesitantly slid in next to him, trying to keep some distance between them still, but Bones crowded closer. He would have fallen off the edge of the bed if the doctor hadn't chosen that moment to lock his arms around him and pull Jim close. Jim's heart raced, and he tensed at the sudden contact pressing along the length of his body.

Long minutes passed before Bones whispered in his ear, "Relax, kid. I gotcha. Just sleep."

And for once Jim did as he was told.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Tripping Place 6/9  
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty  
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.  
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this.

* * *

But now with the way Spock had looked at him, like he was the most important thing in the world, Jim wanted more of that. And it killed him that he couldn't, wouldn't be that selfish. He knew Spock would regret it, and Jim couldn't live with that.

Finding an empty rec room, he locked it behind him, not wanting company right now. Stripping off his uniform shirt and toeing off his shoes, he circled the old fashioned punching bag, starting off slowly, then speeding up hitting harder and harder, nearly missed jumping out of the way as the inertia caused it to swing back towards him. He didn't let himself think, just feel, worked his muscles till they ached and shook, his hands until they throbbed.

He didn't hear the lock being overridden, didn't noticed anyone else in the room until there were arms suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him away back, leading him away from the bag. And he didn't fight it, panting, exhausted, too numb to think, just feel. The cool water that suddenly rushed over the burning flesh of his fists was a shock to his system and he vaguely realized his hands were covered in red, and briefly wondered what it was from. He glanced at the still swaying bag and noticed odd dark smears and then down to the floor where there were red droplets. Blood, he realized from somewhere far away. It was his blood.

That was when the pain hit him. But he welcomed it, embraced it. It gave him something to focus on, something to latch onto and push everything else away. The water stopped, and the next thing he knew, his hands were swathed in white bandages. He briefly worried about the loss of time and wondered if perhaps he was in shock.

A sudden hypo to the neck brought him back to himself so quickly that he trembled violently and whirled on Bones, but the look of sorrow and understanding on the other doctor's face, cut off any response he may have had.

"You're wrong." Jim denied fervently, pushing away the doctor's hands, trying to run again, needing to get out of here, away from it all.

But Bones wasn't going to let that happen. Grabbing Jim's shoulder, he pushed the man up against the wall. "Jim, no."

Jim struggled weakly against the hold, but was just too drained to put up much effort.

"Jim, look at me."

But Jim refused, clenching his eyes tightly shut and turning his head away, not wanting to look into those eyes and see the truth and the pity that he knew they would contain. Bones couldn't be right, he just couldn't.

As McCoy's grip on his shoulders lessened, Jim would have slid down the wall if the other man hadn't stepped forward, pressing into him and holding him in place. Bones' hands ghosted up over Jim's shoulders and cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing away tears that Jim didn't realize he'd shed.

"Jim. Don't do this. I hate seeing you like this."

The rawness and sorrow in Bones' voice was almost palpable and it touched a place in Jim that made him powerless to ignore it. The man had done so much for him, more than anyone ever had, more than he had imagined anyone capable of doing for him. He owed Bones so much, and could deny his friend nothing.

Slowly Jim's eyes slid open and he blinked rapidly to clear away the tears before he focused on the man in front of him. Instead of the expected pity, he found nothing except sorrow and understanding. There was nothing but truth in that brilliant blue gaze, but swallowing hard about the sudden painful lump in his throat, he denied, "No," trying to shake his head despite Bones' imprisoning grasp of his face.

"Yes, Jim. You're his Guide. They were wrong, Jim. They were wrong," McCoy repeated even knowing that there was no way to make him believe it, that Jim had to realize it himself. This time when Jim sagged, Bones went with him and they ended up in a graceless heap on the floor. Shifting their tangled limbs, he pulled Jim into his lap, amazed at how small the other man could make himself appear when he desired because Jim was no light weight. "Spock chose you. That has to mean something."

But Jim wasn't listening anymore, unable to even bear the thought that the fundamental fact that had shaped his life for over a decade wasn't true. Bones was wrong. Spock was wrong. There was no way they couldn't be. The doctors had said – but Jim cut off that train of thought, not letting himself go there, not wanting to relive it again. For one small moment he let himself hope, but he quickly squished it down, because hope never brought anything but pain. But hope wasn't so easily extinguished.

Bones just held him, rocking slightly, making small soothing sounds, running his hands up and down Jim's back. Brushing back Jim's disheveled bangs he placed a kiss on his forehead, and froze as he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes. Turning his head, he met the smoldering eyes of the resigned Vulcan. Spock gave him a small nod of what McCoy could only label as acceptance, before turning and leaving as quietly as he'd came. Bones had to fight not to call out after him, and cursed the Vulcan for jumping to conclusions, and making his life that much more difficult.

* * *

Spock had heard of Sentinels of course, had even worked with several in his years in Starfleet, but it was not a topic that he had studied extensively. He knew what they were and what they were capable of, but beyond that his knowledge was limited. No records had even documented a Vulcan Sentinel, and to have so many present at once was unprecedented.

Jim's reaction to the news was unexpected. Spock had not realized that the man was anything but a psi null, but hearing that Jim was actually an empath had not really come as a surprise; it explained so many things. But the fear and disgust that filled Jim's eyes at the doctor's proclamation was like a knife to his heart. He had not expected it, did not understand it or know why Jim would run. Spock knew that there was no negative stigma attached to either role, so it had to be something personal. As Spock rose to follow, McCoy's voice stopped him.

"Let me talk to him first."

Spock nodded, and relaxed back into his seat as much as he was able. The doctor had not seemed surprised by Jim's reaction, and as close as the pair appeared to be, he probably knew the reason behind it. Vulcans did not feel jealousy, but he did not know what else to call the feeling that suddenly overcame him at the thought of Jim so close to another. Jim was his: his Captain, his friend, his Guide.

He started at the thought, taken aback for a moment, wondering when he had started thinking of the Captain as his own. But still that did not matter if the Captain did not want him, as appeared to be the case. He was not possessive by nature, so such emotions unnerved him. He was not used to not knowing himself, and the very idea that he was not in control of himself sent his sense of self reeling. The very idea that he would spend the rest of his life depending on another went against everything he'd ever been taught. While he had expected to bond before his first pon farr, he did not expect the bond to have such a hold over him.

Suddenly needing to talk to Jim, even talk to the doctor to explain this to him, what it meant to him, he rushed out of the medbay, heedless of Nurse Chapel's angry shout that he hadn't been cleared to leave yet and headed after Jim. He wasn't sure where he was going, but his feet apparently did and led him to the rec rooms.

Coming to a stop outside an occupied room, he hesitated for a moment, considering knocking before he entered. Before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly opened the door, and stepped inside. He opened his month to speak but abruptly shut it at the sight that met his eyes. Dr. McCoy had the crying Captain pressed up against the wall. Immediately filled with fury, thinking the doctor was hurting him, forcing himself on his Guide, Spock made to move forward, but froze at their words.

Watching as Jim collapsed, and was gathered into the doctor's arms obviously upset and fearful of the prospect of being Spock's Guide, he felt a strange stabbing sensation in the region of his heart. Suddenly all the time the Captain spent with the doctor made sense. The reason behind all the times he'd seem Jim exiting McCoy's room in the wee hours of the morning made a horrible sense. They were lovers and Jim thought that Spock would take him away.

McCoy's head suddenly turned towards him, and their eyes locked. Spock did not understand what he saw in the other man's eyes but he nodded his acceptance, and took his leave.

Once safely back in his quarters he began planning, detailing the conversations that he would have to have, to assure Jim that this would not hurt his relationship with the doctor, that he was not a threat to them. While he knew bonds between Sentinels and Guides were often sexual, he knew that it was done for the sake of convenience rather than a true need.

Changing into his robes, he lit the fire stone, preparing to meditate, but at the first bright flare of rainbow colors he was drawn in and lost.

* * *

Jim suddenly stood, ignoring his throbbing hands and aching muscles, not hearing Bones' startled exclamation and demand to know what was going on, and then the shouts to stop and wait as he slammed out the door and began running. He didn't realize where he was going at first; his feet had a mind of their own. But he knew that he was needed.

Rounding a corner he found himself in front of Spock's quarters, and without a second thought, used his code to override the lock and enter. Quickly stepping into the room, his eyes were drawn towards Spock's form, standing with his back towards him unmoving.

Hesitantly he called, "Spock?" but when he received no response he moved forward, around his still form, and found Spock's pupils widely dilated, staring entranced into the fire stone. Quickly putting it out, he called again, "Spock? Can you hear me, Spock?"

Stepping closer to the Vulcan, he hesitantly touched a sleeve of his robe, before searching among its many folds for his hidden hands. He'd never done this before, hadn't thought about it for years, hadn't thought he'd even need to remember, but he knew this. When a Sentinel zoned out on one sense you called them back through their other senses.

He didn't spare a glance as the doctor entered the room cursing. Grasping Spock's hands, he fisted them together and brought them up to his chest, resting over his heart. "Spock, come back to me. Listen to my voice. Feel my touch, my heartbeat. Pull back from it."

Spock suddenly blinked, then tried to jerk back startled at the sudden presence of the Captain before him. "Captain? What are you doing here? I was alone but a moment ago."

"No, Spock, you zoned. You got lost in the flame."

"A zone is a catatonic state brought on by focusing on only one sense. I do not understand. I was alone and you were on the other side of the ship in a rec room."

"Yes, I know—" Jim's eyes went wide. "Wait, how did you know that I was in a rec room?" And then he began to shake his head wildly, and tried to let go of Spock, but the Vulcan only tightened his grip on Jim's hands not letting him pull away.

Bones moved forward, "Jim, you know—"

"No!" Jim exclaimed, trying to pull away from Spock.

He froze at Spock's quiet, "Jim." And looked up at him, as the Vulcan continued on. "I will not come between you and the doctor. I understand that you fear that your responsibilities to me as my Guide would interfere with your relationship, but I foresee that we can continue as we have as though nothing has changed."

Jim was confused and looked over at Bones as the other man groaned. "Spock, what are you talking about? Bones and I aren't together."

Spock shook his head. "There is no need to deny it."

Bones finally spoke up. "Jim, he saw us in the rec room and obviously leapt to conclusions."

Jim was still confused. What had he seen? Just a friend comforting another friend, but then he realized what such a thing could look like from an outside perspective. "Oh, no, no, no. We're not lovers."

Spock's brow rose at the denial. "I have seen you exit the doctor's quarters at 0400 seven times in the past 2.3 months."

"Really? It's been that often? But we aren't sleeping together. I mean we are sleeping together, as in sharing the same bed, not having sex. Have been since the Academy." Jim saw the silent question. "My psi ability, I'm an empath, off the charts according to the tests." Jim took a deep breath to steady himself, and he smiled as he felt the comforting weight of Bones' hand rest on his shoulder. "Spock, I can't be your Guide. Don't give me that look. I know that your instincts are telling you, that there isn't another for you, but there is. I can't be what you need."

Looking over his shoulder for a moment, he met Bones' sad eyes, before straightening and turning back to face Spock. "I never spoke of this aloud, but on Tarsus IV, there was a little girl. Her name was Quinn, and she was beautiful, would have been a knock out if she'd survived. But what made her really special was that she was going to be a Sentinel. I know that they say that's there's no way to tell, but I knew. I'd felt it before, but never understood until I saw her, and the light bulb instantly went on. I don't know why I never recognized it before. Maybe it was because I'd never touched one before. The doctors said that I bonded too young, but there was no bond. She wasn't even a Sentinel yet, just had the possibility of being one, like I had the possibility of being a Guide. Nothing was set in stone. And they locked a part of me away, saying it had broken me, damaged me in some way, but they just didn't understand that I had always been that way, they'd just never bothered to look. I never felt another Sentinel after that."

Jim tensed at the sudden rage he felt pouring off of Spock, and tried to back up but only ran into Bones, who still had a firm grip on his shoulders.

"An adult forced themselves into your psyche without consent and tampered with your mind?" Spock almost vibrated with rage. "The young are meant to be protected. Such an event is the worst travesty."

Spock's grip on Jim's hands tightened painful, and Jim had to fight crying out. "Spock, you're hurting me."

Spock's grip suddenly lessened and the rage all but disappeared as though a switch had been flipped, and for all Jim knew it had been. But the sudden absence of feeling was both a relief and a loss. "I am sorry. The last thing I wish to do is cause you harm, Jim."

Jim just blinked in surprise. He could count the number of times that Spock had called him by his given name without title or prompting from him on one hand. When Spock raised his hand, Jim had to fight not to recoil, but Bones' grounding presence at his back and the reassuring squeeze of his shoulder eased his worries.

Spock's fingers were spread in the way that he'd only encountered once on Delta Vega with Spock's older self, and it had been without explanation or warning, so Spock's soft, "May I?" came as a surprise.

Jim stared at those splayed fingers for a long moment, acknowledging the careful placement of each one as though done a thousand times before. He wasn't sure what exactly it was that Spock was seeking, and not sure if he should or could allow it. During the previous time on Delta Vega with Spock's future counterpart he hadn't understood what the Vulcan was going to do until it was done and there was no way for him to fight it. The encounter had been both amazing and frightening. If the older Vulcan had asked him, or had tried to explain it to him, Jim probably would have denied him.

His brain was the only place he could still call his own, at least in part. He was afraid of what this Spock would see. The other Spock hadn't been searching for anything, hadn't looked into Jim's mind. It was Jim that had been in Spock's mind. But this he knew was different, and he wasn't sure if he could allow it.

When Spock began to lower his hand, Jim realized he that some time had passed and that he hadn't said anything. Finally finding his voice, he asked, "Why?"

Something flashed across Spock's eyes, but was gone before Jim could place it. "I wish to ascertain if any damage was done. The young mind is a very fragile thing. If one is not trained or careful, they can cause unimaginable damage with very little effort. I need to see that you were not damaged."

Jim couldn't contain his gasp, and felt the blood drain from his face. McCoy suddenly pressed up against his back. He was a comforting presence, an anchor in the storm that was raging around him, throughout him. He couldn't. If Spock saw he would know how damaged Jim really was, know that the damage had always been there, that Tarsus IV hadn't caused it, had just made it visible.

He missed the look that Spock and Bones shared over his shoulder as his eyes were still locked to that hand. As he opened his mouth to say no, McCoy's hand rose to cover it before a sound could emerge. Angrily, Jim pushed the hand down and craned his head to look over his shoulder. "What the hell, Bones?"

"Shut up, Jim. This has gone on long enough. I should have done something about this a long time ago, but I was doing what I thought best for you as your friend, not your doctor. Now, as your doctor, shut up and let Spock do this. You need it."

Jim knew he must have looked gob smacked, but Jim trusted Bones, and if Bones said he needed this, then he would do it.

Turning back to Spock, he nodded jerkily, suddenly feeling detached. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and not watch. As the hand neared slowly, giving enough time for Jim to change his mind, he made himself focus on those eyes instead of the hand, letting himself lose himself to that gaze.

Vaguely, from someplace far away, he felt a pressure on his face as the fingers found purchase, and heard the softly whispered words, "My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts." And then he was drowning, gasping for air, as he sank beneath the weight of Spock's mind.

Just as suddenly, he was surrounded by a soothing warmth, an apology, and he was free, gasping for unneeded air. He felt more than heard the words.

I am sorry.

What? Jim tried to say, but no words came out.

You visualize yourself as in your body because that is the form you are most comfortable with, but this is your mind. Think rather than speak.

Like this? Jim could feel Spock's amusement.

Correct.

This was so different from his experience with the future Spock. Before he'd not known himself at all, been consumed and feared that he would be lost under the weight of the man's amazing mind and terrible sorrow. Now he knew Spock was there, but it was far away.

I am sorry that for that experience. It was not normal. Now please relax. This should not take long.

Jim felt the presence withdrawing and shouted, Wait!

Again he felt Spock's gentle amusement. There is no need to shout. I am still here. Just relax. Let yourself drift. It will be easier that way.

Easier for who? Jim asked, but there was no response, so Jim did as he was told. It was an odd experience, one he did not have words for, and he wasn't sure how much time passed before he knew something wasn't right.

In fact, something was about to go terribly wrong. NO! he shouted and suddenly found himself transported to what looked like a festering wound long neglected. It oozed a viscous, yellow-green pus, and Jim found himself gagging despite not being able to smell. Spock's presence was all encompassing, and Jim did not understand what was going on until he saw the wound being opened more to draw the poison out.

Suddenly, he heard screaming, and it took a moment for Jim to realize it was coming from him. Even when swiftly surrounded by Spock's presence he couldn't make himself stop. Before his eyes the wound suddenly began to bleed bright red blood, the toxin abruptly gone, and just as quickly the wound began to close and heal before his eyes, until all that was left of the mess was a bright pink scar, which was rapidly whitening as though aged.

Unexpectedly, he realized that he could suddenly feel Spock, not how Spock was in his mind before, but Spock as a Sentinel, a sensation that he hadn't felt in years. And then Spock was there, invading him, trying to connect them, and Jim was pulling back, trying to prevent it, run from it, but it was already done. He should have known this would happen, hadn't even thought of the possibility, but he suddenly knew that this is how Vulcans all once were. They were the origin, and Spock's unbonded mind sought his out unconsciously.

No he mentally shouted, and he was suddenly back in his body, but it was too late. Spock collapsed on the floor in front of him and Bones began demanding what was going on. Jim had been screaming, but the doctor had known that interrupting the meld could have been fatal to both of them.

Jim ignored him for the moment as he sank down next to him, taking Spock's hand in his. Those eyes fluttered briefly and met his.

Spock tried to pull his hand away, but Jim wouldn't have it, instead tightening his grip.

Jim felt the apology in both the touch and his mind, so when the words came, he was not surprised. "I am sorry. I am ashamed for my uncontrolled action. It was not my intention to do such a thing, but I was overcome. Despite the excuse, my actions are unforgivable, and I shall submit to whatever punishment you deem fit."

"Punishment?" Bones exclaimed, pacing next to them. "What the hell happened? Dammit, I want answers now!"

Feeling the sudden absence of Spock's mind, Jim looked down, seeing that the Vulcan had passed out. "Right now we should get him to sickbay."

"What?" Bones demanded, then realized that Spock had passed out, cursed and called for a stretcher, not noticing that while he had his back turned that Jim slipped out. Turning back to address Jim, he started, "And don't think for a moment this is going to get you…" he trailed off realizing the man's absence, and cursed, "Dammit, Jim!"


End file.
